Fifteen Cities
by Plastic Cello
Summary: Tony Stark, sixteen year old genius and part-timer writer for Rolling Stone magazine, finds himself on tour with his favorite band, Odin's Sons; and immersed in the indulgent rock 'n roll lifestyle. But nothing is as indulgent and dark as Loki Odinson. Pre-slash.
1. Prologue

**Fifteen Cities**

(Prologue)

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**Author's Note: **I was inspired to write this story (although we'll see how far I go with this) by the brilliant story "The Age of Frost" by ragnarok-and-roll-it; which I'd highly recommend that you read! I also drew a lot of inspiration from the film "Almost Famous"; so some of the details very well coincide with it.

Anyway I hope you enjoy it; and it was nice to have a bit of break from my other story at this point. But rest assured, I'm actively working on the next chapter for it.

* * *

Tony paused; fingers poised above his typewriter, and focused his attention solely on the radio. The DJ repeated the announcement in his overly enunciated speech, feigning excitement, and then repeated it one more time if anyone had missed it the first two times.

_"That's right, folks; you heard it here first! I repeat: Odin's Sons will be headlining their first nationwide tour this summer. Fifteen cities across the good 'ol US of A,"_

"Son of a bitch," Tony breathed in sharply, shoving himself away from his desk, and wheeling his chair towards the rotary phone mounted on the wall.

There was only one person who'd have the scoop on this, and well he might have been a little miffed that he hadn't been informed about this earlier. After all, it was Odin's Sons and Tony was their biggest fan; he had already worn out his favorite tee-shirt to rags, and only listened to their album _Still Waters Run Deep_ while driving his badass '69 Impala.

Swiping his fingers along the dial, Tony waited impatiently for the call to go through. One ring, two ring, three ring, three and a half, and then the receiver was picked up with a huff. The usual spiel echoed in his ear from calling so many times within the past five months; and normally he would have listened politely for the other person to finish, but this was big news.

"Hogie, it's me," he opened with, before quickly adding. "Tony Stark, that is. And before you even say a word about Los Angeles' own Johnny Flies High, which by the way are subpar at best with an incredibly stupid name, I need to ask something, like majorly. You know like, why you didn't mention anything about this little fifteen city tour by Odin's fucking Sons?"

"Please, do not call me Hogie for one," the man on the other line said. "And two, we only got word about the Odin's Sons tour around the same time the radio stations did. It's not like we've put them on the cover, so maybe that's why they're playing coy with us."

"Which, Hogie, you can rectify now with this fifteen city tour,"

"Again with that nickname, Stark,"

"Okay, okay, _Mr. Hogun_," he returned, swiveling in his office chair, and hearing Mountain roar through the radio. "But this is a perfect opportunity, you know, to get on England's good side."

"The Beatles and the Rolling Stones have been on the cover, Stark. You can't please the Queen more than that." Hogun deadpanned.

Tony racked his mind for a way to persuade Hogun into letting him cover the concert. Even though he was only a part-timer, who had lied his ass off about both his job experience and age no less (he claimed to be twenty-one, when in reality he was a few months short of his seventeenth birthday), and only written articles about local bands; this was an opportunity of a lifetime.

"But Odin's Sons is the real deal, and if you write up a huge article on their first U.S. tour, well maybe you won't get cockblocked about their future projects."

"And who said we were that invested in Odin's Sons? They might have had one good record, but their longevity is questionable at this point." Hogun insisted, seemingly distracted. "Besides, Lars will be at the first show in L.A.; he has it covered."

"Lars, you mean, Lars Berry who gave _Still Waters Run Deep_ two and a half stars?"

"He's warmed to the record since then, mostly after seeing them play in Manchester last year,"

"Hogie, meet me halfway," Tony leaned forward, studying the lime green phone. "I am the biggest Odin's Sons fan, and if you give me this scoop you will not regret it. I mean, you used six of my concert reports that I submitted free of charge, as an avid reader of the Stone. So you know I'm good for it; hell, I'll do it for half the charge! I'll even buy my own ticket!"

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, before Hogun sighed in a mixture of exasperation and resignation. Tony heard him shift through the, undoubtedly huge, pile of paperwork on his desk; maybe he was looking for his last review he'd written on a female folk-singer whose name eluded him now.

"I'll consider it," Hogun finally replied, although he didn't sound exactly thrilled to be cornered. "But let's focus on that live report; the sooner it's on my desk, the better."

"I hear you loud and clear," Tony returned, aching to get back to his typewriter and blow Hogun's mind; and really it wouldn't be that hard, he was just that gifted in the writing arena. "And I mean it, Hogie; you will not regret a Stark exclusive about Odin's Sons."

"I'm already regretting it, and I'm technically still in the considering process," Hogun muttered, before ending the phone call without a goodbye.

Tony set the receiver back in its cradle, pushing back towards his cluttered desk. His office set-up wasn't anything too extravagant; but really would a sixteen, almost seventeen, year old have a sophisticated office in the basement of his mother's house? No less, a mother that was almost too drunk to notice her kid had gotten a job as a concert reporter for the Rolling fucking Stone?

It didn't hurt either that Tony had a lot of time on his hands, since he graduated at fifteen and was waiting for his old man, a rich son of a bitch who left his mother close to squalor after the divorce, to write a check and send him to the best university in the country. But the old man wanted him to mature a bit, before traversing the American campus, and all their hippie, anti-war bullshit.

That wouldn't have worked for a weapons manufacturer; and said weapons manufacturer didn't need his only son, legitimate at least, getting wrapped up in that anti-war propaganda. Even though, Tony's interests were directed more towards rock 'n roll than politics.

Positioned back in front of typewriter, Tony reached for his previous focus before being bowled over by the Odin's Sons' announcement; and it didn't take very long to refocus his attention back onto Johnny Flies High and their abysmal set. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think about Odin's fucking Sons, and how either way he'd be the one standing in front of center-stage with a notepad and recorder in his pocket. And Lars Berry wasn't about to take it away from him.


	2. Chapter One :: Get the Hell Out of Dodge

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter One

(Get the Hell Out of Dodge)

* * *

**Author's Note: **I had some fun writing this chapter, and I kind of think this whole story will be that way. So I hope you enjoy it and comments are always appreciated.

I didn't listen to any particular song while writing this, aside from some Bad Company which doesn't coincide with the year this story takes place in, which is 1971. And well, the Bad Company album didn't come out until 1974. So I suppose you could still listen to it nonetheless, if you wanted to though.

* * *

The ticket was practically burning a hole in his pocket. Hogun had passed it to him, balancing the telephone receiver between his shoulder and ear, while in the midst of a tense conversation with what could have been Pink Floyd's manager; and mouthed the date in which the article was due, before returning his attention completely back onto his telephone conversation, and effectively dismissing him.

The concert was in three days and the anticipation was close to killing Tony. He leaned against the passenger side of the Impala, remembering the exchange, and watching the students spill out of the high school in excited droves. His best friend James Rhodes was amongst the crowd, trying his hardest to fight his way to freedom.

It took several tries, having to wave away several friends that Tony only knew by sight alone; before James raced across the street and towards the Impala. James let out an annoyed huff of breath, before extending his hand to Tony, who slapped it in greeting.

"Rhodey, my man," Tony smiled, attempting to keep his excitement in check. "I haven't seen you in almost a week."

"Some of us have to focus on finals, you know so we can join you on some university campus this fall,"

"Well, you'll be free by next week. By the way, I got some pretty exciting news." He patted his back pocket, where he hurriedly stuffed the ticket into once he left Hogun's office. "Like major news, man."

James shifted his textbooks from underneath one arm to the other, looking borderline suspicious. Of course there was a legitimate reason for that reaction; Tony had said the same thing last year, before effectively blowing up a good portion of the science lab. Dear 'ol dad had to write a huge-ass check to cover the damages, and ensure Tony would graduate on time without the threat of summer school. And that really went over well, since the old man was so concerned with his well-being.

But having a genius son graduating within his age group was more of a disgrace than him blowing up the science lab; which, by the way, set James's afro on fire; and why he now chose to keep his hair neat and short.

"I'll probably regret asking, but I'm going to anyway. What is the big news?" James asked, all the while keeping the suspicion clear on his face.

"Glad you asked; I was really hoping you wouldn't leave me high and dry. Anyway, I got a major assignment from the Stone; and I might have groveled a bit on the altar of Hogie, but I still got a primo assignment."

"What would that be exactly?"

"Odin's Sons, Rhodey; Odin's fucking Sons are going to be in town in three days. I just picked up my ticket from Hogie." He grinned widely, unable to hide his excitement any longer.

"You're actually going to meet Odin's Sons?" James asked; his interest peaked.

Tony's grin dampened; he hadn't even thought about meeting the band. Of course, now that he thought about it, he bet that smug bastard Lars Berry would have gotten an invitation backstage since he was a veteran journalist instead of a part-time schmuck.

Hogun hadn't mentioned anything about a face-to-face interview either. Like he could have said anything, while romancing Pink Floyd's manager or maybe the Allman Brothers'; besides Hogun had even said that the Stone weren't necessarily invested in Odin's Sons.

"No face-to-face sit down," he tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a cough addled with disappointment. "I'm just doing a concert report, you know the usual bullshit."

"Oh, well that's cool too, you know," James patted him on the shoulder. "I mean you're getting to see Odin's Sons live, which is a big deal. Since you practically worship them; I swear if Loki Odinson was a woman, you'd marry him."

"Cut it out," he scowled.

"When you listen to their record, it looks like you've seen the face of God," James laughed, before attempting to nudge Tony out of the way so he could get into the car. "I bet you even touch yourself when you hear _Valhalla_."

"You are so full of shit," Tony pushed himself off the door, letting James slip into the passenger seat. "I touch myself to _All the Kings Men_."

"At least we got that cleared up," James rolled his eyes, leaning out the window. "Now let's get out of here, I was hooked up with the goods."

Tony didn't have to be told twice; he rounded the car, climbing behind the wheel, and revving the Impala to life. The eight-track player came to life and blared Odin's Sons like it always did; James visibly rolled his eyes again, trying to hold back a chuckle after their little exchange.

Offering him a cheeky grin in return, Tony put the Impala in drive and headed for their usual hang-out spot. They hung out a park only a few miles from the high school, where a good chunk of most kids their age spent their time. Although there had been plenty complaints from parents, pissed that teenagers had taken over the park, and made it unsafe for the younger kids to go.

It hadn't deterred anyone from still going there though, especially on Friday afternoons; which, thankfully it was. There was already people parked side-by-side once Tony pulled up. Several people waved at them, some yelling James's nickname in greeting and others yelling Tony's last name as well.

"And now presenting, for your consideration, a big 'ol bag of weed," Tony declared obnoxiously, as James pulled the baggie out of his shirt pocket.

"You don't have to announce it to the world," James scoffed, before opening up the glove compartment for the rolling papers. "I'm down for sharing, but not with some of those leeches that can't pass around a joint when they have one."

"I hear you brother, oh and it's my favorite self-loving song," Tony guffawed, making it a point to squirm wantonly in his seat, and hum along with the guitar riffs.

James pointedly ignored him, focused on rolling a joint with precision that Tony always found himself envious of. Then again, he was always a bit clumsy and sloppy with things; the only thing he'd managed to perfect was writing and science, when he wasn't actively blowing something up by accident.

The writing thing though, that had been a pastime and somehow grown into a career (or part-time job to be technical); no one was necessarily looking for a sixteen year old scientist. Not even Howard Stark's son would be hired, especially since he did blow up that science lab.

Writing was a safer avenue for the time being; not to mention, it opened up a huge opportunity for him. He was going to see Odin's Sons live in the flesh; and maybe, just maybe he could weasel his way backstage. Girls did it all the time, so they might have some pointers for him if he played nice with them, maybe even lied about putting their names into the article.

Before he could get completely lost in his thoughts, Tony was presented with an immaculately rolled joint which he took between his lips. He fumbled for his bic-lighter that was in the ash tray, and lit the joint and taking a hit. He passed it back to James, before leaning over to turn up the radio.

"Tony Odinson sounds weird," James laughed after several minutes of passing the joint in between them.

"No, that sounds fucking classy," Tony returned.

"Odin's son-in-law,"

"You know, I'd kill you if you didn't know how to roll a killer joint," he scowled, puffing on the joint, and giving a half-hearted wave at some guy whose name he couldn't remember, who was milling around between cars.

But Tony ended up laughing, since suddenly James started to; and they were laughing to near hysterics within a matter of seconds. It took some time for both of them to settle down, lounging into the Impala's seats, while Tony half-hummed along with the song rumbling through the speakers.

"Don't you have to get home soon, man?" James asked, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard.

"Maybe in a while; have to make sure that mommy dearest didn't drown in her own puke. Or bring back the town drunk to be my new daddy,"

"Harsh man,"

"Maria can't be bothered to get her shit together, since Howie decided to leave her for that French model, half her age." He leaned his head back, staring up at the Impala's ceiling. "It's been two years already."

It had been a tough two years, to say the least. Tony's parents had separated and gone through a nasty divorce, which left his mother with him and a couple thousand dollars that had went towards paying off their modest ranch-style house.

It wasn't what a former beauty queen like his mother was used to. Life had been anything but modest for the first fourteen years of his life; although Tony was still given lavish gifts, like the Impala, and trips to Europe when Howie felt generous. Not to mention, he got to spend time at the mansion on holidays; which really fucked with his mother's head that her son got to play house with Colette the French whore.

"Sometimes, I just think about driving," Tony mumbled, squinting up at the rising smoke. "Getting the hell out of Dodge, and saying fuck off to both of them; bye-bye Howie, bye-bye Maria, and bye-bye Colette, you French whore."

"Then do it," James said, sounding strangely serious. "Maybe this is your chance to get the hell out of Dodge. This could be what you need, man."

"What do you mean?"

"Girls run off with bands all the time, but maybe you could too. Not like you'd suck dick or anything; I mean like be a roadie or something. They always need dudes willing to move shit, equipment, you know."

Tony tilted his head, staring at his best friend; but James was focused on looking out windshield. Maybe it was all talk brought on by the weed, since Tony never really talked about getting out. And James wouldn't have even advised him on actually attempting to get out, especially through nefarious means.

He doubted Hogun would be thrilled, if he dropped the article to play roadie. But the reality of the matter was that he definitely couldn't pull the wool over an entire band's eyes about his age. Especially Loki Odinson who was supposed to be a genius like he was; and nothing got past Tony, unless he wanted it to. But it still was nice to dream.

"Hogie would have a heart attack," he chuckled softly. "You know, when he isn't deep throating the Stones or Pink Floyd or Zeppelin or the Allman Brothers' managers."

"Get the hell out of Dodge," James repeated. "Become Mr. Loki Odinson, before one of those groupies gets to him first."

"You are asking for an ass beating,"

"I think you are, Mr. Odinson," James roared with renewed laughter, which set off a chain reaction.

Tony laughed himself hoarse, feeling unbelievably content; which was amplified further by the croon that was Loki Odinson. His voice was dark and deep, practically whispering out the lyrics of the acoustic arrangement of their most popular song _Mischief Abound_.

Truth be told, Tony didn't actually know what Loki, or the rest of the band for that matter, looked like. The Stone hadn't published any photos of them; and he figured the band wouldn't be that receptive after that dismal review they received from Lars Berry. But Tony always figured the guy looked dark and elusive; the kind of guy who could make any girl drop trou; an ability he hadn't mastered by a long shot, but he was by no means a virgin.

"Three days," he muttered under his breath, ignoring the guy who saddled up to the passenger side window to talk to James. "Three days to get the hell out of Dodge."


	3. Chapter Two:: Bright-eyed & Bushy-tailed

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter Two

(Bright-eyed & Bushy-tailed)

* * *

**Author's Note: **I needed to get this posted because today is a very special day - it's David Bowie's 66th birthday. But not only that, he has released a new single today and announced the date for his new album in ten years.

So I'd recommend listening to any Bowie music while reading this chapter. And starting from the next chapter onward (or so is my intention), the chapters will be named after the fifteen cities that Odin's Sons tour. :)

* * *

"So when does the gig end?"

"I don't know, I guess when all gigs end," Tony muttered vaguely, tapping his fingers against his knee. "You're in a band, you should know."

"There is a total difference between local bands and major bands," Happy said, barely sparing him a glance. "And don't you have to interview these guys too? Isn't that the protocol for the Stone?"

"Something like that, yeah, so let's say twelve-thirty,"

"Well, you have a long day ahead of you, buddy," Happy grinned, keeping his eyes on the road.

It was seven-thirty in the morning, and Tony figured it was better to get there as early as possible. People were bound to already be on line; and he suspected he'd only be too lucky if he got anywhere near the stage, let alone center-stage.

At least he wouldn't be in the nosebleed section, since Happy was kind enough to give him a lift. Tony wasn't necessarily fond of taking the Impala out during concerts, since most people proved themselves to be maniacs when they were stoned and abuzz with post-concert adrenaline. That was a disaster in the making; and since Happy was still eternally grateful for the write-up Tony did for his band, he frequently dropped him off a gigs; when he wasn't at his own, of course.

"This is the big leagues," Happy piped up again, turning down the radio that was in the midst of playing Hendrix. "Just to think, only three months ago you were writing about my band. Now you're going to be covering a huge event."

"Well, huge is an overstatement," Tony sniffed, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. "Odin's Sons aren't anywhere near Zeppelin or Bowie. But they'll be there, man; they'll fucking be there."

"From how you run your mouth about them, you'd think it was the second coming,"

"It is, for me. Maybe the first coming, actually," he sniffed again, trying to stave away his building anxiety.

There were several reasons why he was nervous, no less excited. He was about to witness his favorite band in person, in the flesh. He was going to finally fulfill a dream of his, since he stumbled across them at the local record store; and he'd finally get to see Loki Odinson beyond the image he conjured up in his mind.

The man himself, his idol, would be in the same room with him. He'd also be singing his favorite songs, strumming on his acoustic guitar that accompanied Thor Odinson's electric one. Tony would actually get to see the two siblings, side-by-side, bringing to life the songs that he loved unequivocally.

But the thing that was most troubling about the experience of a lifetime was pushing it beyond the performance. Tony was determined to have a face-to-face meeting with Odin's Sons. He wanted to stare Loki Odinson in the eyes, and tell him point-blank how the Rolling Stone were, in fact, invested into Odin's Sons and that Lars Berry was a fucking puke. And he wanted to shake the man's hand that changed his entire, fucked-up existence.

"You need to chill, buddy," Happy eyed him, while coming to a halt at a red light. "You're going to be on line for at least twelve hours, if not more. So for your sake, I'd look for a guy with some herb."

"I'm good, man. I'll be as cool as ice, by the time the show rolls around." He lied, since he still had to figure out how he was going to get backstage, without having to suck a roadie's dick for access.

Of course, his best chance of success was to sweeten up the girls who knew the ropes. The veteran groupies, who could barely list the many musicians they spent the night with. Tony needed to find the ones whose job was literally to fuck rock stars; not the ones who were at their first rodeo. He needed the professionals' help, if he even had a chance in hell to get backstage.

His mind was already working overtime, to the point that he hardly registered the fact that Happy had pulled up to the curb in front of the venue. It took several moments for him to process the scene, more so to understand why Happy was practically shoving him out of the car.

"No one's in line, fuck-face," Happy laughed, giving him a mighty shove coupled with Tony opening the passenger door, which almost sent him to the sidewalk. "And some pretty young things are about to trample their way to the front of the line, if you don't get your ass in gear!"

That was the only motivation Tony needed; he staggered forward, clinging to his shoulder bag, and bolted towards the ticket master. The girls that Happy mentioned, let out a collective wail, but couldn't possibly traverse the distance thanks to their oversized platform shoes. So when Tony skidded to a stop, officially the first in line, he almost reveled in their moans of disappointment.

"Twelve-thirty, no later, buddy," Happy yelled out the window at him, giving him a quick wave. "If you're late, you'll have to take the bus home."

Before he had a chance to reply, Happy pulled away from the curb, and already merged with the morning traffic, leaving him with the downtrodden and visibly annoyed girls in hot pants and floppy hats. They approached him and looked torn between cussing him out or actually attempting to build some kind of camaraderie with him for the next twelve hours on line.

One of the shorter girls with long burgundy colored hair and wearing oversized Elvis-like sunglasses suddenly approached him and held out her hand to him. Tony was immediately wary of the gesture, but he took her hand nonetheless, returning the firm shake that she offered.

"I'm Natasha," she introduced herself with the hint of an accent. "And these are my friends Maria and Peggy."

"Tony," he returned, feeling slightly off balanced; usually he didn't have a problem speaking with these girls, but he could tell right away they were the ones he was looking for.

It wasn't hard to spot out a groupie, not by a long shot. But the type of girl he was looking for wasn't as visible, unless you were in the presence of one of them. They had an aura all of their own; they were no nonsense but playfully seductive. And these girls were after one thing and one thing only – backstage access to Odin's Sons.

Natasha appeared to be the alpha in the pack, in which case meant she was after the biggest fish in the band. She was after Loki Odinson; therefore she was the one he'd have to butter up, in order to take advantage of her particular set of skills.

"Not many people have been ahead of me on line," she slipped her hand from his, looking subtly impressed. "So you must be a big fan of Odin's Sons."

"The biggest," he affirmed, before blurting out, "but I'm also a reporter, so I wanted to get a good place in front of the stage."

"Aren't you a little young to be a reporter?" One of the other girls asked, Tony didn't know which.

"I just look young for my age," he lied flawlessly, before redirecting his attention onto Natasha. "So you must be a huge Odin's Sons fan too."

"A huge Loki Odinson fan," she supplied, without any hint of embarrassment.

That was pretty much an admission of what her intentions were, which also meant that they would be actively fighting one another for the perfect spot in front of the stage. Unless, of course, they came to a sort of understanding; and Tony was willing to compromise, if she could work her magic to get him backstage.

Tony didn't know exactly how he was going to convince Natasha to help him out; but since they had twelve whole hours to get to know one another, he figured he could come up with something. Or maybe she'd just help a part-time reporter, who was starry-eyed about Loki Odinson, in a totally different sense than she was. He wasn't any competition to her and she probably already knew it.

"We might as well get comfortable," Natasha suggested, sinking down onto the pavement. "Unlike some bands, I don't think Odin's Sons are the types to mingle before the show. Then again, that's all hearsay."

Tony followed her lead, as did the other girls. They sat down and were basically at a standstill; the other girls were quick to chat about who they had eyes for, although they both seemed to keep the name Loki Odinson off their lips, as if they feared provoking Natasha.

The conversation was absolutely dull; it felt like a small eternity passed by, since it began and there appeared no end in sight. Tony figured if he had to sit through twelve hours' worth of pointless, unintelligent conversation like this, well he might actually go insane before the doors to the venue even opened.

Sometime in between the girls comparing Thor Odinson's eyes to Fandral's, no surname mentioned, he began to zone off. He pointedly ignored the look Natasha was shooting his way, and instead reflected on his pot-addled conversation with James. The one where he mentioned getting the hell out of L.A. and touring cross-country with the band; even if only temporarily.

But he didn't have much time to explore the thought, since someone had approached and was now looming over him. He jerked his head up to stare at another girl with long flowing brown hair, with a large brim hat; she wore clothes similar to the three he was in company with, but she looked so much livelier in comparison. And Tony would have been lying if he didn't fall in love a little at first sight.

"You're out bright and early, even a little bushy-tailed, daddy-o," the girl offered with a cheeky grin, before crouching down beside him. "Don't tell me you're already on line for the show tonight."

Tony swallowed hard, directing his eyes to stare at her reddish-brown cowboy boots; but he found it hard to ignore the smooth skin of her pale legs, which hadn't seen sunlight in ages. She definitely wasn't a California girl; or maybe she was newly implanted, either way she wasn't from the Golden State.

"I wanted to be front-row, center-stage," he admitted, almost meekly which made him want to hurl.

"Too see quartet of pasty white Englishmen?" She asked, and this time he had to look at her and the amusement dancing in her eyes. "You have a lot more devotion than me. They probably wouldn't even believe it."

"They should, they are an excellent band," Natasha retorted, borderline venomous.

The brown haired girl studied her with an unreadable expression, before she smiled brightly once more. Tony didn't exactly understand women as well as he would have liked, but from what he did know, was that look was both scathing and catty. Just another subtle way that women used to insult one another.

And his hypothesis was proven correctly and almost immediately. The brown haired girl leaned towards him, to the point where he could smell something akin to sunflowers on her; probably some hair product that helped make her hair shine that brilliantly; before whispering into his ear.

"Being a fan of a band is different than being a fan of cock," she pulled away with a sweet smile, which was taken as it was intended to.

Natasha and her two friends shot hateful looks at the brunette, even though they hadn't a clue what she had said. But Tony didn't want to get involved in a catfight; not when he had his own problems to deal with. And it was a lose-lose situation if he decided to intervene; so he wisely kept his mouth shut, and his features neutral.

His lack of action however cost him a worthy ally; Natasha promptly turned her back to him, in a not so subtle way of telling him to fuck off. Already exasperated, but beyond the point of groveling, Tony just shook his head as the girls began their conversation about the band members again. But this time they willingly broached the topic of Loki Odinson, since Natasha was now a part of the conversation.

The brown haired girl was still smiling, unaffected by the cold shoulder; then again, she clearly wasn't about to spend twelve hours on line either. She stood from her crouch, readjusting her hat, and making a point to pat Tony on the head like he was a dog.

"I'll see you around, daddy-o," she winked, which caused his heart to flutter.

"Wait, you're not staying?" He blurted out, which caused the trio of girls to laugh at him condescendingly.

"I prefer the back of the theater, better of view,"

"I'm Tony," he returned almost as if an afterthought, and felt even stupider than he had beforehand.

"Amelia," she winked again, before petting his head again, and leaning down so she spoke into his ear. "But my friends call me Sif or Siffy, and since I like you daddy-o, you can call me either one you like."

Tony gaped, wondering why that nickname sounded pretty damn familiar; but for whatever reason, his brain wasn't up to par at such an early hour. Not to mention, he was already a part of a cold war between the hot, young groupies who would make it a problem to get the primo spot that he wanted.

Just as he was about to inquire about it, Amelia or rather Sif or Siffy was already on the move. She waved at him, still smiling that smile that made him fall deeper in love; and was around the street corner before he could even will his mouth into action. And he wasn't so stupid that he'd go after her, not when the piranhas were already shooting him looks that would have left a lesser person dead.

No way, no how was he moving. Not even God himself could get him to move. Hell, John Lennon and Yoko Ono could have shown up with promises of adoption and the finest weed anyone had ever grown; and he would have to say sorry and pass on the generous offer.

Letting out a sigh, Tony ignored the snide remarks that the groupies shared amongst themselves. He would figure a way backstage somehow, and he would be center-stage, even if he had to latch himself to the stage or even Loki Odinson's leg.

God willing it didn't escalate to that point.


	4. Chapter Three :: Los Angeles

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter Three

(Los Angeles)

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope you enjoy this chapter; as always reviews are appreciated (and make me very happy).

* * *

By seven o'clock sharp, Tony had reconciled with Natasha. The icebreaker had been the box of candy Tony had tossed into his messenger bag, alongside his tape recorder and notepad; and since groupies were not known for their survivalist skills, his selflessness paid off in spades.

The tension between them had all but dissipated, and they had agreed upon sharing the spot in front of Loki Odinson; which meant Tony had to shield Natasha from the handsy drunkards and stoners in the crowd; and in return for his services, she would schmooze the staff into letting him backstage as well.

Natasha had hooked her arm through his, while holding onto Maria's hand who held onto Peggy's. They were a united front, but if Tony had to leave the other two behind in the fray, he was more than willing to make that sacrifice. As long as Natasha was saved from the stampede that was the only thing that mattered to him.

The line had grown significantly larger throughout the day, and rumbles of impatience were growing louder and louder. Several people began to chant the band's name, while others shouted uncoordinated things, demanding to be let into the theater.

Tony too found himself growing impatient; but in the very least his adrenaline kicked in, derailing any fatigue he might have felt from sitting for so long on the pavement. And luckily once he had made up with Natasha; she did save his spot on line so he could run across the street to use the bathroom at a laundry mat.

"Head for the stage, no pit stops," Natasha murmured in his ear, clutching his arm tighter. "Normally, they'll let half the crowd in first, so no one gets trampled. But realistically, these morons can't control an overexcited crowd like this one."

"Got it," he returned, attempting to see what was happening behind the theater's doors; but the small diamond shaped windows, only revealed someone walking back and forth in front of them.

The disgruntled yells increased by a tenfold, and effectively putting Tony further on edge. His stomach did several unpleasant flip-flops, while still staring at the diamond shaped windows, and the figure that kept pacing in front of them. He shoved a hand through his thick and unruly hair, probably making a bigger mess of it than it already was; but he didn't necessarily give a shit. He wasn't trying to deep-throat Loki Odinson like Natasha, who'd been touching up her makeup half an hour earlier.

After what felt like a small eternity, someone shoved one of the theater's doors open, followed by a gaggle of other individuals: bouncer-types. Some wore black tees plastered with the word _staff_ on the back, while others wore tour tees with Odin's Sons' emblem, two helmets, one with wings on the side and other goat-like horns, across the front of the shirt.

Tony tensed for a split-second, only moving towards the door when Natasha urged him to. He had barely noticed that one of the bouncers had motioned him forward, ready to accept the ticket he, at least, remembered to present.

When both he and Natasha got clearance, he didn't hesitate to yank her into the theater, and breaking her hold on Maria. Luckily she didn't protest and allowed him to drag her through the lobby, past the merchandise table, and into the oversized room where the stage was housed.

He drug Natasha the rest of the way to the stage, parking both of them center-stage in front of the barricade that ran along the front of it. Natasha let out a huff of laughter, before offering him a half-smile; from his brief acquaintanceship with her, Tony noticed she wasn't one to actually smile very big or even to laugh very loudly either.

"Eager, are we?" She asked; only to turn around and wave at her friends. "And just for the record, Maria looks positively lethal right now."

"Too bad," he returned in a hushed, almost reverent tone.

Almost on cue, Maria barreled over still attached to Peggy; alongside an innumerable amount of people that were in the business of finding a good spot for the show. But the angry dark-haired girl demanded attention, and not just because she was wearing bright red daisy dukes and looked pretty stellar despite that nasty look on her face.

"You asshole, what was that?" Maria snapped, turning a shade of color that matched her shorts. "We had a deal!"

"For one, we did not have a deal. I had a deal with Natasha. And two, why does it matter? You get to flutter your eyelashes at on your side of the stage all you want. No harm, no foul." He rolled his eyes.

Maria called him another colorful insult, albeit it didn't have its desired effect. His eyes were pinned onto the stage, head abuzz with the reality of the moment. Within forty-five minutes, maybe even less, Loki Odinson would be in front of his very eyes; no longer an illusion, or a figure he conjured up in his mind to match the voice, the lyrics – but the actual person.

His heart thrummed wildly, almost too preoccupied to realize that Natasha crouched down beside him, and slithered in front of him, back plastered against his chest. He blinked several times; temporarily unsure of what was going on, before remembering their deal.

"Right, human barrier," he said to no one in particular, before gripping onto the barricade, and caging her in between his arms.

Before very long, the oversized room was filled with hundreds of bodies. The smell of weed and alcohol intermingled in the air, not to mention colognes of all types and the prevalent stench of body odor as well. Tony would forever, no doubt, always associate it with live shows; this was what concerts were meant to smell like.

The unnecessary and unwanted bodily contact was another thing that he'd always associate with concerts. Someone was already pressed uncomfortably close to him from behind, and there was further contact on either side of him as well. But any annoyance that he might have felt was soon replaced by gratitude, when the guy on his back offered a joint with the message to pass it on.

Tony took a hit, offering it to Natasha who automatically accepted it, and passed along to the person to their left. Maria and Peggy had gone to either side of the stage, in order to ogle either Fandral or Thor Odinson; and now Tony couldn't even spot them in the crowd, which was fine by him. The less squawking about whose eyes were bluer, the better.

Soon enough the lights were lowered halfway, welcoming the opening band onstage. Several people in the crowd whistled and yelled out words of encouragement, as the band settled in front of their instruments, and began to play what Tony could only describe as a horrendous set of psychedelic, avant-garde bullshit.

He wasn't even close to being stoned, let alone stoned enough to enjoy what they were playing. Thankfully someone else passed him a joint, which he took full advantage of, and passed to Natasha like he had before. Although, he began to immediately regret his decision since he didn't want to be a mess by the time Odin's Sons was onstage.

In the very least, it made that unnamed band far more entertaining, and made their set go by far quicker than it would have if he were dead sober. But even being slightly stoned couldn't stop him from gasping in anticipation as the roadies with the Odin's Sons tee-shirts came onto the stage, and began to dismantle the opening band's gear (with their help, of course), and start setting up for the main event.

The crowd began to make loud and impatient noises, as they had while on line. Natasha was compelled to join in, practically demanding that Loki Odinson get his ass on the stage right then and now; lest she do something drastic, and Tony could imagine her doing something drastic if she didn't get her way; which included not having Loki Odinson mouth-fuck her close to death.

Tony tensed as one particularly burly roadie began to set-up a microphone stand in front of him; and all his anxiety was suddenly upon him again. He felt almost sick, which was perpetuated by the concert smells around him.

He braced himself against the barricade further, and unfortunately plastered himself way too familiarly against Natasha's back. She didn't seem to mind though, still in the midst of screaming for Loki Odinson like a madwoman.

Similarly other women in the crowd began to scream in high-pitched, wanton voices; they increased a tenfold as the final preparation for the show took place, and the roadies were leisurely walking off the stage. Some of them even waved obnoxiously at the crowd, which earned them boos and vulgar hand gestures.

But the mob mentality soon quieted, almost to the point of it being eerie. The room suddenly delved into complete darkness, before a rainbow of colored lights twinkled to life. And then there were several shadows striding onto the stage; one gargantuan figure who settled behind the drum-kit, another tall and lanky one who settled onto the left side of the stage, while a muscular one went to the right side.

Tony's breath hitched as a tall and lanky silhouette moved to the microphone stand, only an arm's length away from him. Without any warning his senses were assaulted by a mixture of drums and guitar, so loud and overpowering that he couldn't help but cringe; until he realized the melody, and felt his blood boil in elation.

The reddish hue that had encompassed the stage; ebbed away to natural light just as Loki Odinson belted out the lyrics to _All the Kings Men_. His hands were wrapped around the microphone stand and the microphone simultaneously, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music, which made Natasha scream shrilly.

Standing at the microphone was no ordinary man; Loki Odinson superseded the many images Tony conjured up in his mind. They didn't do the man any justice; not the man dressed in bell-bottom jeans and deep blue oxford that exposed his collarbone, and whose hair was jet-black and flipped immaculately at the nape of his neck.

His eyes were an electrifying green that Tony hadn't ever seen before; and his features were aquiline and elegant on the verge of total perfection. Hell, Tony was convinced at that very moment as Loki Odinson sang with all his might into the microphone that he was the personification of perfection.

It was a _come to Jesus_ moment, probably the first he'd ever experienced. Not even the weed in his system could hinder what he was experiencing; nothing could have hindered the way Loki Odinson belted into the microphone, leaning back and swaying with the music, and the soul-shattering way in which his lips parted to smile and expose his perfectly straight teeth.

The rest of the band was inconsequential to him; they were only back-up musicians, could have been studio musicians; since they couldn't even drag Tony's eyes away from Loki. Nothing could have; not even if Howie and Maria were set on fire, and were begging him to extinguish the flames.

Tony felt like he'd been hypnotized; with each passing song, his gaze remained firmly implanted onto Loki. Even when Thor Odinson took up lead vocals on one of their more obscure songs, and Loki took up his acoustic guitar in accompaniment; Tony could only stare at the raven-haired man, no _god_.

There was no other way to describe Loki Odinson; he couldn't possibly be human. Godhood, demon-hood even, only seemed befitting for someone of his caliber. His voice, his gestures, the way he strummed his guitar, those weren't humanly features. They were too lucid, smooth, and elegant; no one could possibly be that way; no one.

But what cemented that fact, irrevocably so, was when the stage darkened again. Only to be illuminated, deserted aside from Loki, who was sitting on a stool with his acoustic guitar in his lap. His gaze roved across the crowd, as if desperately searching for something but clearly coming up short. And Tony didn't realize how much he wanted those eyes to be on him until that very moment.

"Hello, Los Angeles," Loki hummed into the microphone, while experimentally strumming on his guitar. "My name is Loki Odinson, and before I let you go I want to play you a song. Cover song, mind you; I want to play you _Letter to Hermione_ by David Bowie."

The room had gone quiet again, listening reverently to the soft and emotional-addled voice that rose from Loki. Tony felt his whole body tense, ceased by a slew of emotions that he really couldn't describe properly. In fact, it was almost terrifying that he could feel so much, when he generally kept those things at bay.

And yet he was consumed by everything, greedily drinking in every movement and word that Loki played and sang. Then without any warning, those green eyes paused on him; but they didn't fleet away within seconds. Those eyes remained on him, curious and inquiring, and stripping him bare; they froze him to the spot, even as Natasha squirmed against him, realizing where Loki's gaze had landed on.

Too soon they drifted away, as did the song. Blackness consumed the stage once more; however, there was nothing to be seen once the lights flickered on. Loki Odinson had dissipated into nothingness, only leaving behind the vibration in the crowd's ears, and irreversible want that certainly had befallen everyone in the room.

Tony couldn't possibly be the only one who'd fallen under Loki Odinson's enchantment. And he felt like a nerve exposed, exposed to those venomous green eyes which drew him out of reality so wholly, and onto a whole other plane of existence.

But it couldn't last forever, no matter how much he wanted it to. Especially not when an aggressive burgundy-haired groupie elbowed him in the solar plexus, and made him double over.


	5. Chapter Four :: Los Angeles II

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter Four

(Los Angeles II)

* * *

**Author's Note: **Here's another chapter; I've been having a lot of fun writing this (and probably the reason behind the speedy updates). But I'm also trying to focus on cleaning up the chapters, catching typos and grammar errors. Knowing me though, there are probably a slew left; in which I apologize in advanced.

* * *

Tony sat on the curb, notepad balanced on his knee, and cursing inwardly at Happy and Natasha alike. It was close to one-thirty in the morning and his evening had gone abruptly sour. Natasha had easily persuaded a roadie into letting her backstage, promising Tony until she was blue in the face that she'd come back for him; which turned out to be a blatant lie.

He'd waited for a good half hour, before giving up to curb-sit instead and wait for Happy. It had been twelve-twenty then, so he was well within his time frame; but Happy hadn't shown up and had yet to show up, giving him ample time to jot down the finer points of the concert.

Only that reawakened the resentment he felt towards Natasha. At that very moment, she could have been with Loki Odinson, on her knees no less; and for some reason that made him even angrier. Maybe it was because Sif or Siffy's words resonated with him; that Natasha wasn't even a fan of Odin's Sons but was just out to fuck any musician within her path.

Tony hadn't really spoken to Natasha in length about Odin's Sons, which was odd in retrospect. Then again, they had been at an impasse for several hours and when they had spoken it was about getting in the front of the stage. So he really couldn't say definitively if Natasha was a real fan or just a groupie; either way, she still screwed him over.

"Son of a bitch," Tony heaved, slapping his pencil flat against his notepad; it was apparent that Happy wouldn't actually show up for him, and he wasn't really receptive to taking the bus.

No one would be willing to pick him up either. His mother probably didn't even know he was out of the house, and dear 'ol dad would sooner stop manufacturing weaponry before he'd come and pick him up in downtown Los Angeles.

So his options were limited; the only sane one would to be to find the closest bus stop. But that was the least appealing one, and the bus wouldn't necessarily get him home. It could have gotten him within walking distance, which he wasn't up for either.

Hitchhiking seemed like the best course of action, and it wouldn't be very hard to get someone to pick him up. Once he finally decided what to do, Tony flipped his notepad closed and tossed it along with his pencil back into his messenger bag.

"Kind of late to be enjoying the sights, daddy-o," Sif suddenly approached from behind, sinking onto the curb beside him. "Not to mention a laundry mat and shoe shop isn't the best sights in California."

Tony turned to look at her; she was dressed differently than that morning. Her hair was pulled back into ponytail and she looked strangely fresh-faced for it being that early in the morning. She wore an Odin's Sons tee-shirt, denim shorts, and the same cowboy boots when they first encountered one another.

"Oh I don't know, they kind of speak to me," he returned. "Especially when your ride totally fucked you over,"

"So you're stranded," she stated more than asked.

"If you want to call it that, which I would,"

"I saw you writing just a while ago. Don't worry, I'm not stalking you, daddy-o; I was coming from over there." Sif pointed to her right, before wrapping her arms around her knees, and tilting her head so she could observe him better.

Tony laughed abruptly, thinking he'd only be too lucky to get a girl like her to stalk him. Although, he wasn't exactly lacking in the girl department; he'd been called handsome hundreds of times, and had enough girlfriends at that age to know that it wasn't that farfetched.

"Just jotting down my thoughts about the show; I have to write a live report."

"A live report, so that would make you a reporter?" Sif appeared as if her interest was piqued.

"Yeah, I had to bend over backwards to get the gig from my boss,"

"Who do you write for, daddy-o? Some school newspaper, a small-time one maybe? What are we talking about?"

"Ever heard of a little magazine called the Rolling Stone?" Tony wriggled his eyebrows, which only seemed to scare away his new friend.

Sif stood from the curb, putting her hands onto her hips. He stared up at her, trying to gage her reaction; he just hadn't predicted for her to grab for his arm and urge him onto his feet. He staggered into standing, giving her a questioning look.

"Follow me, daddy-o," she said in means of an explanation.

Reluctantly Tony followed after her; she rounded the corner, the same one she had earlier in the day and led him several paces before taking an abrupt turn into an alley. He had the good sense to pause outside of it, question if he should even follow a complete and utter stranger, and finally drew to the conclusion it was equally as safe as hitchhiking and quickly raced after her.

Sif led him through several back alleys, until they reached an open area that ran behind a block of buildings. On further inspection, Tony realized they were behind the theater that the concert had taken place in; no less, there were several roadies in the midst of rolling cargo from the back of the theater and onto a series of trucks.

Farther away from the activity stood a tour bus; Tony gaped in sudden realization that he was led directly to the Holy Grail. He hadn't had to make any consensus with anybody, didn't even have to suck a dick; he simply had to sit on the curb, looking pathetic and grumpy, and someone had taken pity on his soul.

Wordlessly he followed after Sif again, who was headed for the tour bus. The roadies hardly spared them a look as they walked by; no one even questioned why they were back there, which kicked in Tony's paranoia for a split-second. But he didn't even have time to overthink it, before Sif was yanking open the bus's door and started to mount the steps.

"Come on, daddy-o," she called over her shoulder, which spurred him to climb the steps after her.

The tour bus was smoky and smelled of cheap leather and cigarette smoke. It was dark too like some sort of cave on wheels; but there were noises, human noises in the back of the bus. Sif continued to lead him along, as if she owned the place.

Tony looked back and forth, from one corner of the bus to the next. There was a small kitchenette to one side and across the way a table and booth. Further into the bus were several bunk-beds with curtains either thrown open or closed.

Abruptly Sif stopped, yanking open a bottom bunk's curtains, only to reveal Natasha throat deep on a guy's cock. Tony vaguely recalled it was the bassist for Odin's Sons, Fandral; the guy should have in the very least looked a bit scandalized that Sif ripped open the curtains, and was now staring indignantly at him, but he only offered her a sheepish grin.

"Where is Thor?" She asked, paying little attention to the way Fandral laid his hand on the back of Natasha's skull, once she tried to pull away and probably go lethal on their asses.

"Outside, those two are at it again," Fandral managed to say, despite the compromising position he was in.

"I should have known," Sif returned, closing the curtains shut.

"Explain to me something, Siffy. Why are you with that kid?" Fandral called out, even as Sif was pushing Tony back the way they came.

"Oh, he's only a writer for the Rolling Stone. And he's going to write a huge spread on how you like your cock sucked by cheap redheads." She smirked at Tony, still urging him to the front of the bus.

Tony took it upon himself to climb out of the bus, suddenly very confused by what he'd just saw. After all, he'd spent at least fifteen hours with an overly ambitious groupie who seemed to be determined to bed Loki Odinson. But instead, she was blowing the bassist; he would have vocalized his confusion, had it not been for Sif scourging the area in search of Thor.

It didn't take particularly long to find the person in question. Thor was tall and muscular, and looked if he wanted to rip someone's head off. His hand was wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle and was in the midst of pacing like a caged animal. He only stopped once he caught sight of them, inquiring with a raise of an eyebrow.

"You two were at it again," Sif stated blandly, having the gall to yank the beer bottle out of his hand and overturn it. "So where did he go?"

"He's already on his way to San Francisco with some of the crew," Thor scowled, none too pleased, or so it seemed, by the loss of his beer.

"And what were you fighting about this time around?"

"Before I say anything, who the hell is that?" Thor pointed at him, still looking mean.

"That's my new friend, um, Tony?" Sif looked at Tony for confirmation; he nodded, which compelled her to continue. "Yeah, Tony; he is a writer for Rolling Stone, and he is in the business of writing a spread about the band. So I figured he should interview you guys; but since the crowned prince already left, well that dampens things."

"The Rolling Stone wasn't very kind about our record," Thor glowered, as if Tony was the one responsible for Lars fucking Berry's dismal review.

"That would have been Lars Berry," Tony supplied, sounding strangely calm with all things considering. "He's a dickhead, whose head is so far up Greg Allman's ass he can taste what he had for dinner. Trust me when I say I want to write a huge fucking article on you guys, and let the Stone's readers know just who's going to dominate the scene very soon."

Thor continued to glower at Tony, and he was sure that he blabbed way too much. And this guy didn't look like the talking type; he came off more like: _I'll kick your ass, if you try and pull your fucking wit on me_.

Tony inwardly cursed him, but was thrown through a loop when the big guy laughed like a clap of thunder. It was loud and borderline jubilant; nowhere as intimidating as his looks. Before he knew it, Thor slapped a hand across his back with a grin.

"I like you," Thor laughed again, looking to Sif. "Sif, I always wondered what you did when you wandered off. And you found us a Rolling Stone reporter."

"But like I said, it'll put a damper on things with Loki already gone," Sif rolled her eyes. "Sorry, daddy-o."

Despite having come face-to-face with not one, but two members of Odin's Sons; Tony couldn't help but feel disappointed. Loki Odinson wasn't even there; he was already headed to San Francisco, and Tony didn't have a chance to say a goddamn word to him. No wonder Natasha was sucking off Fandral.

Trying to mask his disappointment, he smiled tightly and was about to explain how he could just write the live report, rather than do an interview; which was his original assignment anyway. But Thor had wrapped a bulky arm around his shoulders and was directing him back towards the tour bus.

"That can be remedied," Thor said which caused Sif to huff. "You'll just have to interview all of us in San Francisco."

"Even though that sounds great, I don't have any way to get to San Francisco. Not to mention I don't have a ticket; this was kind of supposed to be a one night gig." Tony explained, before he and Thor drew to a halt.

"So you thought so little of us that one show would have sufficed?"

"With all due respect, I am a huge Odin's Sons fan. I had to beg my ass to get this assignment; and well, I'm technically only supposed to write a live review. But I wanted a sit down; I wanted to write up a huge article that'll have the Stone bending over backwards to get you on the cover." He admitted, verging on meekly since the giant still had an arm around him, and could crush his head like a grape.

"Fair enough," Thor muttered, continuing again towards the tour bus. "Then you'll just have to come with us. And two shows will not be enough to write an appropriate article."

The implication was pretty clear – Thor Odinson, leader of Odin's Sons, wanted him to write an article on the band. But not only that, he actually invited him on tour; to write a comprehensive, in-depth article that would really showcase them. Comparably to a bit piece, which most readers would skim over before forgetting all about what they read two seconds later.

Tony gaped again, stunned stupid. While he had grandiose dreams about going on tour with his favorite band, especially after his conversation with James; never in a million years would he have suspected that it would happen. That he would actually be welcomed with open arms to come on tour with them; although Tony suspected Thor might have been more than a little drunk.

Before he could intervene, Tony caught sight of Sif who simply shook her head, as if to deter him from shooting himself in the foot. Or maybe she was doing a favor for Thor; either way he didn't speak up. Regardless if Thor was drunk or even if Sif wanted him to keep quiet for her own selfish reasons; Tony too had a selfish reason to keep his mouth shut and that was Loki Odinson.

He had to meet Loki Odinson one way or the other, which meant going along with whatever Thor suggested. Even though, he only had his messenger bag and fair amount of change that inevitably would sustain him for a few weeks; Tony climbed onto the bus with Thor, and was somehow fulfilling a dream that he'd never thought he would – he was now officially on tour with Odin's Sons.


	6. Chapter Five :: San Francisco

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter Five

(San Francisco)

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**Author's Note: **This is a filler chapter, you know to get some of the pressing matters out of the way. But we'll be back and running full speed ahead by the next chapter. :)

As always I hope you enjoy, and reviews are always welcomed.

* * *

Waking up in a foreign place wasn't exactly new to Tony. It was, however, the first time that he woke up in a cramped bunk-bed on a tour bus, which had rolled into San Francisco sometime during the wee morning hours.

The smell of cigarette smoke was strong in his nostrils, alongside some kind of spicy food. He rolled onto his side, before blearily reaching for the closed curtains, and sliding them open. There was very little light on the back of the bus; probably because most rock bands were recovering from hangovers during a good portion of their tours, and he had a vague idea that Thor Odinson would be too.

Once Thor had escorted Tony back onto the tour bus, and Fandral had kicked Natasha unceremoniously off it despite her vehement protests (even trying so lowly to get Tony on her side); the band leader began drinking everything in sight. Fandral and Volstagg joined him, enthused by the fact that Tony wanted to write up a huge article on them.

Luckily they hadn't questioned why he hadn't been drinking; although the assumption he needed to be sober to get the scoop was more than efficient. Tony, of course, had had his fair share of alcohol before, hence waking up in foreign places; but he wasn't an elegant drunk, and probably would have given himself away when it came to his age.

He was almost positive that they broached that topic, sometime in between Thor belting out several songs, and Volstagg having quite a fit over the lack of food on the bus. He was just happy that they were the type of people who weren't very inquisitive; it wasn't to say that they weren't bright, but details weren't their forte per se.

Glad that he'd taken refuge on one of the lower bunks, Tony staggered onto his feet. He was still clothed in yesterday's outfit, scuffed up tennis shoes included; which would explain why he was stiff and in no way rested. He felt like he might have been experiencing a hangover of his own, even if he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. But he had spent twelve hours on the pavement, almost three and a half on his feet, and an hour back on the pavement. So it was justifiable to a degree.

Slowly he crept towards the front of the bus, following the stench of food and cigarettes only to find Sif sitting at the booth across from the kitchenette. She was in the midst of eating something from a Styrofoam container but paused once she saw him.

She smiled at him, motioning him to the other side of the booth, and he gratefully took up the offer to sit. He huffed and eyed the still smoking cigarette in its ceramic ashtray, before turning his attention back onto her as she shoveled some sort of noodles into her mouth.

"You're going to kick yourself, daddy-o," Sif said around her food.

"For sleeping in my clothes, hell yeah," Tony tried to crack his neck to no avail.

"More like you woke up ten minutes too late," she returned, eyes glistening with amusement. "You just missed Loki; he was actually in the same place as Thor for a whole hour without trying to upturn anything. Then again, Thor was asleep."

Tony paused and stared at Sif like she'd grown a second head. The fact that Loki Odinson had only been several feet away from him again, but this time without his knowledge; well that gave him the sudden urge to rip out his own hair.

The only person he wanted to meet was easily avoiding him without even trying. It wasn't like it was a conscious decision on Loki Odinson's part; he didn't even know him to want to avoid him. Unless he didn't have a predilection to reporters, especially ones aligned with Rolling Stone magazine. The same magazine who had written that Loki's vocals were oftentimes lackluster and a failed attempt to capture Bowie's essence; Lars fucking Berry really took Odin's Sons to town with that review.

"Don't worry, daddy-o," Sif drew him out of his thoughts, before pushing the container and her fork in his direction. "He'll be back; he just needed to cool down. He went to sightsee, which is an excellent idea. I've never been to San Francisco."

"Where are you from anyway?" Tony asked, oblivious to his own hunger until her half-eaten food was in front of him.

"That's hard to answer. I'm from everywhere; army brat."

"How did you hook up with Odin's Sons? I mean you're obviously connected." He dug into the noodles that were seasoned with spices that set his mouth on fire; but he was lucky that she set an unopened can of cola in front of him, as if she could read his mind.

"My family lives in Essex now," she smiled that smile, the same one that made Tony feel lightheaded and kind of stupid. "Easy to latch onto some pasty Englishmen when you live in Essex,"

"You're pasty too," he said as if an afterthought, which made her laugh.

"Touché," Sif ground the cigarette in the ashtray until it was extinguished. "We have a motel room, you know for the essentials. So once you finish, you can catch a shower, and we'll go explore. Then you'll eventually get a chance to interview them."

"You mean Loki Odinson too?" He coughed, before reaching for the cola and popping it open. "Or are our existences on parallel planes, never to intersect,"

Sif laughed again in a way that gave him goose bumps; he looked away from her and tried not to blush, which would be mortifying for him. Especially since he was playing a twenty-one year old Rolling Stone reporter, not some starry-eyed sixteen year old that he truly was.

Hogun had always said his biggest weakness was his lack of professionalism; he frequently allowed his opinion and personality to outshine the pieces he wrote. Then again, that's why he was invaluable; it was an up and coming sort of journalism that both irked Hogun and fascinated him as well; but mostly it irked him, especially if Tony only insulted a musician without any subtlety attached.

"You'll meet him," Sif assured. "Now eat up, so we can get a move on. You don't want to be here when those guys wake up from their hangovers. They're worse than babies."

Tony ate the majority of the noodles and sucked down his cola in record time. The thought of a hot shower was foremost in his mind, well behind meeting Loki Odinson anyway. He had to figure that the shower was more of a probability now, especially if Loki just left no more than twenty minutes earlier.

Within a matter of minutes, Sif led him off of the bus and into an empty lot. The tour bus was parked behind the venue and several work trucks were already being unloaded by roadies. They soon exited the lot and stepped onto a busy street; the sound hit Tony like a freight train, and for the briefest of moments he felt self-conscious. He probably looked like a mess, which wasn't common for a CEO's son like him.

They weaved their way through the eclectic crowd; Sif was strangely confident for never being there before, although Tony had to assume she located the motel sometime earlier in the day already. She did seem to come and go as she pleased, not to mention without any fear whatsoever either.

Soon enough they reached a quaint motel painted bright orange; they bypassed the front desk and mounted the stairs, before coming to a halt outside of room 204. Sif fished out the key from her pocket, unlocked the door, and motioned him into the room first; he stepped inside, briefly overlooking the decorum, then over at her.

"Get comfortable, daddy-o. I'm going to pick you up something to wear." She winked, leaving before Tony could even object.

Awkwardly he stood in the center of the room, observing his surroundings further, until his eyes fell on a telephone. It really wasn't uncommon for Tony to go a day or so without speaking to his mother; but if this was going to be a few weeks then it would be wise to check-in, not only with his mother but Hogun too.

With a sigh, he sat onto the bed, grabbed the receiver, and dialed out. The telephone rang loudly in his ear and he couldn't say he was exactly surprised that his mother didn't answer. She could either be black-out drunk or out to the liquor store; maybe she even decided to go to work at this rate. But he really didn't know if she was experiencing a good day, a bad one, or a downright shitty one.

He hung up, pausing for a moment or two, before dialing his father's direct line at his office; he bypassed talking to Howard's secretary, who undoubtedly slept with him in the past, and got through within only four rings. But it wasn't his dad that answered.

"Obadiah Stane,"

"Hey, Obie, uh it's me, Tony," he said stiffly.

"Baby Howard," Obadiah greeted him as he always did. "How are you doing? Hopefully you haven't blown up anything of late!"

"No, of course not," he scowled. "I just wanted to talk to Howard."

"No can do, kiddo. Howard's in Paris for the rest of the month. I'm surprised he didn't drop you a line already; he left last Thursday."

"Why am I not surprised?" Tony bit the inside of his cheek, in an attempt to control any untoward anger he might have been experiencing; although it was mostly justified when it came to his father. "Well, I'm taking a bit of a road trip and since I couldn't get a hold of Mom, I figured I should let Howard know."

"I'll let him know whenever he calls,"

"Thanks and, uh, Obie,"

"Yeah kid,"

"If you could check up on Mom or have someone do it, I'd appreciate it. You know how she can be."

"Yeah, of course, kid. Don't worry about it; have fun on your little road trip." Obadiah replied, before saying goodbye and disconnecting the call.

Tony placed the receiver back in its cradle, choosing to forego the call to Hogun for now. His live report wasn't due for another week, so there wasn't any rush to get in touch. Hogun would probably take offense to being called up like that anyway; Tony had a feeling he still wasn't happy about his original call involving Odin's Sons tour.

Annoyed still from his conversation with Obie, Tony got up and went into the bathroom to shower. He peeled out of his well-loved Odin's Sons tee-shirt and faded jeans, before he climbed into the bathtub and showered in water far too hot. His skin turned a brilliant shade of pink, but he didn't shy away from it, and stayed a good fifteen minutes under the showerhead.

Only when the water began to cool down did he venture out, drying himself, and wrapping a towel around his waist. But he didn't get much further in his ritual, before Sif pushed the door open, dangling two different shopping bags at him; and by no means even offended by seeing him half-naked, despite his yelp of surprise.

"One bag of clothes and a bag of essentials," she explained, slipping out again once he took her offering without a word.

Tony went through both bags, quickly perusing the toothbrush and toothpaste and deodorant, and feeling more like a human again. The clothing she'd brought to him was pretty basic and spot-on size wise; he figured she just had a good eye for sizing people up.

He pulled on the boxer briefs she picked out, which were flaming red coinciding with his face at the thought that some girl he hardly knew bought him underwear, and yanked on dark wash of denim jeans before pulling on an Odin's Sons tee-shirt, probably one she snatched from the vending table's stash, his socks and worn tennis shoes, and then surveyed himself in the fogged-out mirror.

There was some stubble on his normally smooth face, but he figured it would help age him some. So he left it be, before gathering his dirty clothes and tossing them into the shopping bag, and slinking out to find Sif lounging on one of the double beds and watching television.

"Finally," she exclaimed dramatically, rolling to the side of the bed, and climbing to her feet. "There are some cool places we can hit up, since the show won't start for hours."

"What do they do when you're roaming around?"

"I bet Thor, Fandral, and Volstagg are going to get kicked out of bed very soon by Philly and head to rehearsal. They're going to be in horrific moods, so it's best if we steer clear of them."

"But shouldn't I be at rehearsal to, you know, write about it for the article?" Tony insisted, watching as she clicked off the television set, and gave him a knowing look.

There were very few people who could read him correctly, and well the one who always could was oftentimes too drunk to even know if there was one or two of him. Although he was beginning to suspect he was just transparent to the female persuasion.

"There will be thirteen more shows after this one; you'll get your chance. And Loki can't avoid the tour bus for very long; Philly will make him stay on it, in the very least for money reasons." She slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "Now come on, I want to sightsee. And I got your bag for you too; see how thoughtful I am?"

"Thank you," Tony grabbed his shoulder bag from a nearby chair, and stuffed the other shopping bags inside. "How much do I owe you, by the way?"

"You owe me your company around the city, daddy-o. Now let's get a move on it." Sif yanked on her big floppy hat on from the previous day, and pointed to the door to back up her words. "We have six hours at least and that isn't a lot of time for exploring a whole city; chop-chop!"

Helplessly Tony followed her out of the motel room and out into graying morning. He figured he'd entertain her for the time being, after all she had been uncharacteristically nice to him; not many people in her position would do the same thing, especially for someone they only met the previous day. So it was only proper etiquette to go along with her plans for now.

He also had to have faith that she was right about that Philly guy; about him forcing Loki Odinson back onto the tour bus due to budgetary issues. Which meant that Tony would just have to show some patience for once in his life, and try not to blow up anything in the process; but he couldn't make any promises either.


	7. Chapter Six :: San Francisco II

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter Six

(San Francisco II)

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**Author's Note: **I've been pretty inspired to write on this story of late; so here is another chapter and hopefully it'll be more satisfactory than the filler chapter. And on a side note, I really like some of the lyrics for "Lady Stardust" by David Bowie; in a way it seems to describe Loki's character (or the evolution of him later on).

As always reviews are appreciated and inspire me to write further! :)

* * *

"Stay here,"

"Why? I want to be at center-stage again." Tony glowered at the brunette attached to his arm, somehow showing a great deal of restraint despite wanting to knock her over. "This a nosebleed spot; if someone taller gets in front of us, we're screwed."

"Thor doesn't like to see people he knows in the front row. It messes with his concentration; why do you think I stay back here?"

"I don't know because you've probably seen them play a hundred times and are just plain bored now."

"Calm down, daddy-o," Sif remained attached to his arm still. "I mean it; if he can see your face in the crowd, he has a tendency to get funny. Especially at big shows like this; although he wasn't a fan of seeing anyone he knew back in the minor leagues either."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard," Tony snapped, even though he reserved himself to her will.

It was a pain in the ass to be in someone else's debt. If he hadn't been, nothing would have stopped him from pushing through the building crowd and taking his rightful spot in front of the stage. But Tony knew better than to tempt fate, especially when things had been going in his favor; well, aside from missing Loki Odinson at every turn.

Fate seemed to get a jolly by ensuring that Tony wouldn't meet his idol anytime soon. It was pushing his patience to the brink, but he kept reminding himself that it would happen. They couldn't possibly cohabitate on a tiny old tour bus without running into one another eventually. And there was still the matter of an interview, which meant Loki had to be present whether he liked it or not.

Sif had promised, almost flippantly really, that he'd get his chance sometime tonight; albeit the probability of an interview would be nil. The band was apparently not in their best form, socially anyway, and it would be pushing it to attempt to interview them.

"You'll get the exact same impact from over here," Sif crossed her arms, observing the crowd nonchalantly. "The only difference is you won't have Loki's sweat on you. And I'm sure if you really wanted it, we could work out something with him. Maybe we can steal his shirt; snatch it right off his back."

Tony whipped around, shooting her a scandalized look. Normally he would have run with a joke like that; both his parents believed his greatest attribute to the Stark name had been his sarcasm. But the idea of doing that to Loki Odinson was almost on the verge sacrilegious; especially now that he witnessed his stage performance.

Sif only smirked in return; Tony was starting to suspect she really could read him like a well-worn book. Or maybe she just knew his type; as much as there was a type of groupie, there must have been a type of star-struck fan, who worshiped the band like a lunatic. And Tony wasn't that far away from being completely crazed either.

"Give it a rest, daddy-o," she said with a hint of amusement. "Loki isn't opposed to singing on the tour bus; he does it a lot. So you'll get plenty of mini concerts to the point where you'll be sick of them."

"So you really are sick of the concerts already?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"I never said that," Sif stared straight ahead, looking far, far away. "I've seen what Odin's Sons was when they were playing drab pubs with only a dozen people, mostly sloshed, as their audience. And I've seen them play crowds like this; but it never gets boring. Not when Loki's singing; that is something that'll never get old. Not even when he hits eighty; so long as he keeps that voice."

There was raw honesty in that statement and for a split-second Tony saw something that made his stomach flip-flop. He swore that Sif wasn't enamored with Loki as he was, in the whole idolized business; nor was she on the same level as Natasha was either. No, for that moment she almost looked like a girl hit hard by love.

Tony didn't know why that struck a chord in him but it did. Maybe it was because she was a beautiful girl who'd been infinitely too kind to him. Or maybe it was because there was a connection she shared with Loki Odinson that he never would. Not romantically per se, since he was hot-blooded heterosexual male, but a connection he'd never be able to obtain.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look at the semi-lit stage. More people had accumulated in the theater and were drawing close to its capacity. But they were lucky that no one too tall had settled into their line of vision, and they were still able to see the stage clearly.

Even as the opening act, the same avant-garde bullshitters, took the stage; Tony felt himself consumed by a slew of disjointed emotions. In all likelihood, Sif could have been Loki's girlfriend; it wasn't as if they had discussed why she was with the band. She was just there; she didn't really work for them for all intents and purposes, so it wouldn't be that farfetched to believe she was romantically entangled with his idol.

Tony bowed his head, taking several measured breaths in order to get a hold of his composure. Whatever he was feeling was utterly childish, and he was far from childish. He had to be more of an adult while dealing with an alcoholic mother and an absentee father (who had a predilection for whiskey); not to mention that whole genius spiel, made it difficult to be that immature.

And yet those feelings persisted; so long in fact, that the opening band was already wrapping up their set and Odin's Sons' roadies were teetering on the side of the stage. Sif appeared to be oblivious to his plight; or in the very least, she was kind enough to ignore it, which he was eternally grateful for.

"The opening band is god awful," Sif raised her voice and leaned towards him. "But they were the best of the cesspool."

"Tough luck," he returned half-heartedly, deciding that focusing all his might on the cacophony of noise on the stage was a better alternative than making eye contact with Sif.

It was hard not to feel stupid with such tumultuous feelings; none of which were justifiable in the slightest. He hadn't any right to feel whatever it was he felt; he was just an outsider with a tape recorder and a notepad, ready to get the gritty details on his favorite band. That was the extent of his involvement and Tony Stark did not get emotionally compromised.

He repeated that mantra in his head, only pausing when the roadies were dashing off the stage after prepping it for the band, and once the lights lowered until it was completely dark in the room. As it had happened the previous night, an explosion of rainbow lights went off, basking the stage in a red hue before four figures made their way into their respected positions.

Tony found he was already familiar with Volstagg, Thor, and Fandral to the point that their presence didn't mystify him at all. Loki's tall and thin figure however had him instantly enchanted; he was almost bowled over by the sound that bellowed out of the man, coinciding with the red light dissipating back to a normal shade.

Loki stood like a god amongst men, singing with such force and intensity that the whole crowd could only gap in awe, before the music crashed around the room like a thunderclap and caused everyone to holler in excitement.

Tony gaped, surveying Loki from head to toe; he was all long limbs and graceful movements, swaying with the music and pulling the microphone stand up close and personal to him then pushing it away when he would hit a particularly high note. But what was even more telling were his eyes; the same eyes that had been focused on Tony the previous night, which were wide and wondrous as if he really wasn't connected to the crowd at all but a place farther away.

Time ceased to even exist then. Everything boiled down to one thing and one thing only for Tony and that was Loki Odinson. The rest of the band could stop playing, march right off the stage, and so long as Loki was singing nothing else mattered. And he vaguely suspected everyone in the room would agree with him.

Loki was the epicenter of the universe; the way, in which he swayed dangerously backwards, belting out one of the highest notes Tony had ever heard in his life, and righting himself languidly as if to show off every muscle in his body through the thin forest green oxford he wore, which was partially opened to show his clavicles and the sheen of sweat that settled against his flesh.

Every inane detail was ingrained in Tony's brain, to the point where he thought he might short-circuit. Each movement, expression, and word assaulted his better judgment; he was completely oblivious to the outside world as the songs rolled off of Loki's tongue, and when he eventually took up his acoustic guitar to accompany Thor's masterful playing.

It was so much information to consume all at once; and it was ripped away from him just as quickly as it begun to flood his brain. Someone was yanking on his arm, even though Loki was still on stage and singing breathily into the microphone, haloed by the rainbow lights again. Tony tried to pull away but Sif's voice was in his ear, vainly attempting to break the trance he was in.

"We need to get on the bus, daddy-o," she explained still pulling on his arm. "Philly wants to get a move on it early for Seattle."

"Tell Philly to fuck off," Tony almost hissed, refusing to look away from the stage.

"Either you stand here and watch the last two songs, and get stranded in San Francisco; or you can get on the bus and eye-fuck Loki up close and personal."

"I am not eye-fucking him! I'm straight!" He yelled angrily, finally turning to her and shooting her the deadliest look that he could.

The look had very little effect on her though; Sif continued to pull on his arm, until he gave into her whim. But he did so mostly to contradict her words; in no way had he been eye-fucking Loki. Someone with his reputation of chasing skirts (although his success rate had very little to do with it), would not have been eye-fucking another guy. And the insinuation pissed him off more than he could describe.

Luckily he hadn't the opportunity to vocalize it, because that would have been a first-way ticket off the tour bus and onto public transport. Sif dragged him towards the left-side of the room where one of the roadies was standing with his arms crossed. He recognized Sif immediately, grabbing onto her hand, and working his way through the crowd with ease.

They created an unbreakable human chain, making it to the railing in no time flat; the roadie hopped over it, before reaching for Sif and lifting her over it, and roughly helping Tony over when he clamored over the edge.

A middle-aged guy in a brown suede suit met them out of nowhere, motioning towards the backstage area and towards the exit, which was propped open. The smell of cigarette and pot smoke was strong; the roadies were clearly relaxing before they had to get back to work.

"No wandering around, Amelia," the middle-aged guy said sternly, before turning to Tony. "Keep an eye on her; she has a penchant for holding up the band."

"Shut up, Philly," Sif scowled, latching onto Tony's arm again. "We're going to the bus now. Just make sure Fandral doesn't try and bring any whores along for the ride."

"Omit that from your article, please," the guy grinned mirthlessly. "Now go on, Loki's solo is coming up in two minutes; the others should be heading your way soon."

They were shooed away like a pair of misbehaving children, which Sif didn't take very well; but she still led the way outside past the roadies who grunted out hellos, the first that Tony had ever heard from them. Sif returned the greetings but didn't break stride as they hit the cool evening air, and were walking down a large cement slope.

The sound of Loki's voice trailed them as they made their way to the bus; Tony felt both anger and regret for having to leave so early, but knew his top priority was to be on the same bus as Loki instead of merely in the same room.

"Don't be so pissed off, daddy-o," Sif said, looking over her shoulder at him. "I was only making a joke about the eye-fucking thing."

"It wasn't funny," Tony snapped.

"It was a little funny,"

"It was not,"

"Okay, fine. It wasn't funny at all. You're a mega-hetero, who is so masculine that you just ooze testosterone." She offered, before greeting a gray-haired guy with a bushy mustache who was leaning against the bus. "That's Gary, the bus driver."

"You're just trying to pick a fight now,"

"I am not!" She paused in the midst of opening the bus's door. "Loki is gifted, so gifted people fall in love him by sight. But when he opens his mouth, all bets are off. He's something special and people know it. You, Tony, know it."

Tony knew it, all right. Even before he'd seen Loki in person, he knew the owner of that voice was something special. He couldn't put his finger on it precisely, but it was more than just Loki's vocal range; it was beyond comprehension, which frustrated the hell out of him since he was a genius.

Sif gazed at him one last time, then pulled open the door and disappeared into the bus. Tony peered at Gary who was pretending not be paying attention, but it was so obvious it wasn't even funny, before he too got onto the bus and chose to slide into the booth across from the kitchenette.

He didn't bother to look to where Sif went, and instead waited a good fifteen minutes before the three members of Odin's Sons mounted the steps and greeted him with mixed reception. Despite having a successful show under their belt, none of them looked too pleased especially Thor.

The big guy lumbered towards the back of the bus, leaving behind Fandral and Volstagg who collapsed into the booth across from him. Fandral already had a cigarette between his lips, which he lit with a stray match, while Volstagg cradled a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels to his chest.

"Shite show, man," Fandral openly scowled. "I swear Loki is going to skewer us."

"The bloke's been in a mood since Berlin," Volstagg shook his head. "And we won't hear the end of it anytime soon."

"I thought you guys were great," Tony lied, since he hadn't necessarily noticed anyone but Loki.

"If you thought that was great, you should see us when we aren't playing like shite," Fandral returned, pointing his cigarette at Tony, and swatting the air. "We can play a fucking show."

"London last autumn, that was a show," Volstagg affirmed.

"Brussels in February, that was a fucking show," Fandral added.

"San Francisco in June, bloody fucking awful," someone said, drawing the table's attention to them. "Los Angeles was no better either; why not give the Rolling Stone further ammunition to criticize us? I believe the term lackluster comes to mind."

Tony stilled, forgetting momentarily how to breathe. Standing only several feet away from him was Loki Odinson; his oxford was untucked and completely unbuttoned, revealing a lithe and pale torso still wet with perspiration. He walked leisurely towards the table, eyeing Volstagg and Fandral with a look that a schoolmarm would envy, while disregarding Tony entirely.

"I advise you to think about drinking the night before a gig," Loki snarled, before lifting both eyebrows almost innocently. "Or you lot will be on your own."

"Seattle isn't for three days," Fandral waved his cigarette wielding hand dismissively. "And we hear you loud and clear, crowned prince of Odin. No bloody drinks the night before a show."

Loki pressed both his hands onto the tabletop, leaning in to the point where Tony could smell some sort of cologne on his skin. Hell, he could have literally reached out and touched him; although the idea was both ludicrous and highly inappropriate, especially when it looked like Loki might actually attack either Fandral or Volstagg.

"You have more than a capable vocalist in Thor," Loki sneered, only to turn his attention onto the guy wearing the brown suede suit who suddenly appeared; he'd wrapped his arm around Loki's waist and urged him to right himself again.

"The show was great," the guy said with a smile. "You guys are just too critical that's all. But trust me; the crowd was eating out of your hands. They loved you."

Loki glowered at the guy who kept smiling as if this was typical. The guy's arm remained firmly around Loki's waist, as he graced everyone at the booth with a look that while was pleasant on the outside, could have very well been a warning of sorts underneath all its layers.

"Now why don't you catch a shower; Gary managed to fix the stall. Afterwards, we'll stop somewhere for something to eat, okay?" The guy directed to Loki, who still looked vaguely murderous, but conceded nonetheless.

Before he ventured further into the bus, Loki shot Tony a look that was veiled in mystery. Tony held his breath almost terrified by it; but the fear soon passed as Loki did, who yelled something unpleasant at Thor who returned the favor in turn.

The guy in the brown suede suit only shook his head, before leaning conspiratorially against the table. Fandral rolled his eyes, taking a long drag from his cigarette; Volstagg opened the Jack Daniels bottle and sniffed it, but didn't take a drink since his focus was on the guy in the brown suede suit.

"We can't have this going on,"

"When was it our job to make sure he's happy, Phil? We're a band not back-up musicians." Fandral scoffed. "Besides the bastard's been in a fit for weeks and you just keep coddling him."

"No, Fandral, I am not coddling him. As your manager, I'm protecting your business. And let's not kid ourselves when we say Loki is an integral part of why the band is successful."

"But he isn't the only reason," Volstagg supplied, before taking a sip from the bottle.

"I think you two could make a consensus with me. It was your fault and especially Thor's why he's been like this. And in the very least, you could not be piss-drunk the night before a show. Just to appease him for the time being; in between shows, go crazy." Phil, or Philly, said before glancing towards Tony. "I imagine you'll keep this off the record, won't you?"

"Hear no evil, see no evil," Tony returned numbly.

"Great then, I'll tell Gary we're ready to go. We'll find something to eat on the way out of town." Phil nodded. "And maybe you two can think about speaking with Tony sometime tomorrow."

"Hear you loud and clear, Phil," Fandral saluted and took the bottle out of Volstagg's hand.

Phil exited the tour bus, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence in his wake. Tony was assaulted by another series of emotions, but mostly confusion. The dynamics of the band were far more complex than he originally anticipated for; and his first meeting with Loki Odinson hadn't gone according to plan.

Well, it really hadn't been a meeting at all. Loki had ignored him for the most part, except when he pinned him with an uncomfortable gaze and disappeared into the back of the bus. Tony could only hope that he could be properly introduced to him and maybe they could even have a conversation; although he figured it was for the best that he had time to collect himself, since his emotions were unbalanced and he really didn't know what he felt towards Loki now.

But something twisted painfully in his gut, when his mind wandered back to the way Loki had leaned against the table and unwittingly showcased every muscle in his abdomen while doing so. Tony buried his face in his hands, ignoring the banter between Fandral and Volstagg, and willed his anatomy to get itself under control before he nose-dived into a full-blown identity crisis.


	8. Chapter Seven ::Three O'Clock Interviews

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter Seven

(Three O'Clock Interviews)

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**Author's Note: **I'm sorry to inundate you with my blather, but I was so happy by the reception I got from the previous chapter that I had to post this one. Everyone made me so warm and fuzzy on the inside; thank you so much, now let me love you!

And this chapter was pretty fun to write; I seem to thrive while writing a particular someone. ;)

* * *

Tony woke with a start; his heart pounded in his throat, coming down from a nightmare that was already fading away. Most of his nightmares had the tendency to dissipate before he could analyze them properly; which generally would have been a plus, had it not been for his need to be infinitely self-aware. Despite his tendency to then sweep his self-awareness underneath the metaphorical rug.

Knowing there was no way in hell that he'd get back to sleep; he slid the curtains open to his bunk and climbed onto his feet. The only sound that was audible was the drone of the tour bus; everyone appeared to be asleep, which was just fine. Tony needed some time to think without anyone buzzing around him, especially Sif.

During the past few days, he admittedly hadn't been acting like himself. Being star-struck wasn't his forte and if anyone could see him, James in particular, he'd never be able to live it down. Hogun too would probably be stunned stupid by his reverent attitude; albeit, he wasn't necessarily pleased with his own behavior either. No less, his thoughts that were becoming unbearable on top of it.

What he really needed was time to decompress, to work his way back to his element. And the only way he could do it was alone; so he decided to make good use of his time. Reaching back into his bunk, Tony grabbed his bag and moved to the front of the bus; but he drew up short, once he saw two people sitting quietly at the table.

Sif was eyeing a spiral notebook, having drawn her knees underneath her chin; her long brown hair ran like a waterfall around her, and seemed to emphasize her beauty underneath the god awful yellow lightning that illuminated the breakfast nook.

Sitting opposite of her was none other than Loki Odinson; he was watching her with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable to witness, cradling his cheek in one hand that was also balancing a burning cigarette between his fingers.

Tony pressed himself into the shadows and held his breath; although neither Sif nor Loki appeared to have noticed him at all. Both of them were clearly distracted and that unpleasant sensation overwhelmed Tony suddenly; the same one he'd gotten when he suspected that Sif was Loki's girlfriend.

"Does it have a name yet?" Sif raised her head slowly, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Maybe," Loki returned in a lighter voice than his singing one. "I don't know yet. It might make certain people uncomfortable."

"When have you ever been conscious of what anyone else thinks, Lo?" She asked. "Your favorite pastime is to offend."

"I thought you knew me better, Amelia,"

"What's the name of it?" She pressed, pushing the spiral notebook across the table towards him.

Suddenly Loki's face cracked into a smile, probably the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen on another human being's lips. The intensity that had been so poignant on his features was no longer there, instead replaced by something almost on the verge of angelic.

Rather than bask in it, Sif huffed in annoyance and pointed her index finger at him; which, in turn, only made that smile grow larger and more brilliant. Loki put the smoldering cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag from it, and expelling the smoke from the side of his mouth so it wouldn't go directly into Sif's face.

"You know me better than that. I'm just a normal gent from Essex; if it wasn't for Thor, I would still be working in record shops and busing pubs." He laughed again, rich and penetrating at her annoyed expression. "But even if I don't mind offending, I don't purposely hurt others. But this, this would hurt someone very much."

Loki tapped the notebook with his free hand; his smile faded away, leaving behind the intensity again that was both haunting and exhilarating. He tilted his head, studying the notebook as Sif had only moments ago, before he flipped the cover and hid whatever was written on the page.

"Why did you share it with me then?" Sif almost whispered it out, dropping her legs from underneath her chin.

"Dear Amelia, I wanted your opinion of course,"

"You usually share these things with Thor," she pressed.

"I'm not privy to share anything with him now, you know that. But you should also realize I'd never share this with him, if my life depended on it." Loki suddenly glowered, taking a longer drag from his cigarette. "Don't be stupid; I hate when you do that."

"Excuse me, but you see everyone as stupid," Sif swatted the air. "That's why I'm surprised you haven't bothered to speak to our reporter. He's pretty smart and probably right up your alley."

Tony tensed and held his breath again; his eyes shot towards Loki, who was still drawing on his cigarette and giving nothing away. It was single-handedly the most stressful ten seconds of his life, waiting for his idol to say something, anything about him; and when a soft hum rumbled from Loki's throat, he wasn't sure how to feel.

"Stop playing coy," Sif urged, seemingly growing even more frustrated.

"Then stop playing stupid,"

"I'll stop playing stupid when you start answering my questions. You're the one who got me out of bed."

"My apologies, I thought you would like to breathe without my brother nearly suffocating you with his impressive girth. But you do seem to enjoy that now don't you, Amelia?" Loki said it in a manner that was both nasty and sugary sweet.

Sif bristled almost immediately and began to climb out of the booth, but Loki stopped her. His hand wrapped around her wrist, cementing her to the spot, which only made her bristle more. He drew her closer to him, shifting his body to the edge of the booth so his long jean-clad legs stuck out into the aisle, and she was in between them.

Tony's heart pounded harder than it had when he came to; he didn't know what was happening, and yet the implication was doing awful things to his insides. They twisted to the point of being painful and made him shrink further into the shadows; although he really couldn't move from the spot, despite risking the chance of being discovered.

"What was it you said about not purposely hurting people?" She practically hissed, but making no move to pull away from his grasp.

"You hurt me," Loki returned lowly, shifting his eyes away from her face. "You still hurt me; daily, hourly, minutely."

"Stop it right now, Loki,"

"Go to bed, Amelia. My brother will realize you're gone and draw to insidious conclusions." He let go of her, before his index finger pressed itself above her heart and moved it touch the same spot on his chest. "And if you stay here, I'll be compelled by insidious means."

"You're unfair, Loki. You've always been unfair." She said on the verge of hateful. "Don't wake me up again."

"Cross my heart," he returned fickly, before readjusting himself into the booth.

Without gracing him with another look, Sif stormed towards the darkened length of the bus. Tony panicked for the briefest moment, pressing himself into the nook in between the communal area and the bunk-beds; and somehow, by the grace of god, she didn't notice him.

His heart was in his throat again, beating erratically and faster than it ever had before. It was worse than when he stole his father's finest scotch from his liquor cabinet, and had come very close to being caught with it. Since if he honestly had been caught eavesdropping, he could only imagine being manually throw off the tour bus in northern California; which really wasn't an ideal situation.

Tony didn't know how long he stood there after Sif's departure, but it was long enough for Loki to light another cigarette, before flipping open the notebook and staring at the page reverently. Once his heart slowed and the painful emotions inside of him dampened, Tony slid from the shadows and stepped into the communal area.

It only took half a beat for Loki to lift his head, even less time for him to flip his notebook closed again. He pinned Tony with that look again, a look that he hadn't even graced Sif with; and in retrospect, Tony could admit it was the scariest thing he'd ever witnessed.

Loki opened his mouth, before clamping it shut immediately. Someone slapped Tony hard across the back, almost sending him careening to the floor, and it took a lot of self-restraint not to shoot an expletive and a sarcastic-addled insult at whoever the culprit was.

"Have I interrupted an interview?" Thor asked sleepily, although he didn't seem to mind if his actions were any indication of it.

Thor ambled towards the kitchenette, opening cabinets and drawers, and settling onto a bottle, of what could only be, warm beer which he found in a lower cabinet. But that didn't deter him in the slightest; he twisted off the cap easily, and took a long and healthy drink from it.

"Only if Rolling Stone reporters conduct interviews at three o'clock in the morning," Loki muttered, shooting nasty glares at his brother. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to sleep."

Tony wanted to say something, anything to stop Loki; which normally would have been an easy feat for him. Except nothing was easy or normal for him at the moment; everything that he was seemed to be reduced to the goofy Rolling Stone reporter, who could only stare at Loki Odinson as if he was the messiah himself. And the same goofy reporter that just stepped out of the way to let Loki pass.

Not even a single word escaped him and before he knew it, Loki had already disappeared into the back of the bus and he was left with a half-asleep Thor. The band leader drank most of the bottle of beer within seconds, gracing him with a bleary eyed look, and Tony wanted nothing more than to punch it right off his face.

"You'll have a hard time getting anything from Loki. I hope you aren't planning to make him the focus of your interview; it would be a shame for you and for Odin's Sons." Thor said, leaning against the cabinetry.

"Oh, it'll be hard especially since every time I get near the guy someone interrupts," Tony openly seethed, before collapsing into the booth Sif had previously been in.

The smell of Loki's cigarettes was still very apparent; as was that cologne which was stronger than it had been beforehand when Tony first smelled it. He must have applied it again, generously at that. But it was by no means unbearable either; he liked the smell and that threw him back into his cycle of confusion and annoyance, and made him want to punch Thor even harder.

"Let's not jerk each other off here, Thor. Everyone wants to know what the lead singer has to say; his ass is going to be slapped right in the middle of any photo shoot you do because he's the Grand Poobah! The lead singer always gets the attention, all the goddamn accolades! And it would be great, fucking beautiful, if I could corner him and at least introduce myself without everyone and their mother stopping me!" He slapped his notepad onto the table, hitting the point of reckless indifference.

Why skirt around it anymore? It might have only been two, going on three, days since he'd been pulled into Odin's Sons' world, but his haywire emotions were taking their toll already. He might not last the entire tour at this rate; hell, he might actually want to be kicked off the bus now.

Thor stared at him, bringing the bottle again to his lips, and downing it without taking his eyes off of him. It was clear that Tony had struck a nerve; but it should have been a given already that bands with questionable and explosive dynamics were made up of a bundle of exposed nerves, and Odin's Sons were no different.

"I've been told that many times. Despite Loki only joining the band out of convenience, he has easily taken over." Thor murmured, his voice brimming with uncontrolled bitterness. "You'll have your interview with him Tony Stark, even if I have to hold him in place. But I hope you recognize that Odin's Sons is not Loki nor is Loki Odin's Sons."

"Trust me, I know. But it won't do the band any favors if he isn't showcased; and at this rate, I figure that's exactly what's going to happen." Tony jotted down several things onto his notepad, words that he'd interpret later when he sat down at his typewriter to shape the article.

"You'll be with us for almost two months; that is unless you are having second thoughts. Or maybe someone far bigger has decided to tour at the same time as us, and you need to cover them instead."

"Two months is a long fucking time," he paused in his writing, shooting Thor a pointed look. "And I can't wait around on the promise I might talk to Loki. If I get some questions answered every once in a while, then I won't have to worry; understand?"

"I understand very well," Thor smiled genuinely, which was a surprise to say the least. "Loki will be all yours tomorrow evening. I shall see to it."

Tony parted his lips, suddenly hit by a furious flush. Of course he knew what Thor meant but those despicable feelings, which he was going to hide under lock and key, twisted the words into a sexual innuendo. And for Christ's sake for a split-second, he imagined Loki squirming all long-limbed and uncoordinated on his bunk-bed.

Thor didn't appear to notice his duress, only bestowing him with a good night, before he too disappeared into the back of the bus. And Tony, despite his original reason for getting up in the first place, found that he didn't want to be left by himself anymore. Since those thoughts were threatening to consume him with their intensity.

"Jesus Christ," he bemoaned, covering his face with both hands. "What the hell is wrong with me?"


	9. Chapter Eight :: Seattle

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter Eight

(Seattle)

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is another filler chapter, but at least I'm establishing the bedrock for some of the funner things to come (or so I hope). :)

And thank you to everyone who have been so receptive to this story; I'm overwhelmed by your kindness!

* * *

Thor had lied to Tony. Not once or even twice, but a total of three times. The first time had barely been forgivable, while the second had been utterly irreprehensible, and the third had stemmed an ugly and uncharacteristic level of vindictiveness from Tony.

Despite being promised a face-to-face encounter with Loki, it hadn't come to fruition. It had been almost impossible to catch a moment with Loki; regardless of being in a confined space for hours at a time, there hadn't been any opportune time to speak. It also didn't help that whenever Tony was anywhere near the guy, someone swooped in to interrupt.

Super manager Phil Coulson had been a frequent interrupter, although everyone had contributed to the problem as well. Even Gary the tour bus driver had a hand in it; why the old man wanted to share a cigarette break with Loki fucking Odinson was beyond his understanding, but it had happened at least four times already.

Not to mention, whenever the tour bus pulled to halt for any reason, Loki had a knack for slipping away undetected. No matter the location, even a bum-fuck town in Oregon, Loki had disappeared for well over an hour and no one had questioned it; although they were quick to complain and belittle him until he finally returned, empty-handed and perfectly casual.

Thor had been the only one to comment, which had caused the situation to turn from mild to violent within seconds. Luckily Volstagg had been there to ensure that the two brothers didn't kill one another; although a cabinet door had been completely demolished thanks to Thor's canned ham fist.

By the time the tour bus rolled onto the rain-soaked streets of Seattle, Tony had gone from idol worship to angry reporter. Anyone unfortunate to get in his path, beyond a one Loki Odinson, had been subjected to his trademark snark and sarcastic banter, which seemed to both surprise and amuse them. Except the whole situation was far from amusing to him; regardless of only being drawn into Odin's Sons' world for less than a week, he really couldn't deal with the frustration any longer.

So to counteract his poor luck and Thor's inability to keep a promise, Tony had conjured up a plan of attack. He noticed from Loki's previous disappearing act, that he oftentimes slipped away undetected because everyone had been too busy pressing their faces to the windows, and freeing up the aisle for his grand escape. Therefore, he would only have to be the first one off the bus and ambush Loki then; or he could simply block his path. Either way, it would, in the very least, reap some positive results.

Once the tour bus came to a halt, he was quick to clamor down the aisle as everyone was plastered to the windows, and paused on the top step until Gary slid the door open for him. Tony leapt onto the wet asphalt, almost bowled over by the cool breeze that whipped across his face. But even that couldn't dampen his exhilaration on finally getting one up on Odin's Sons' elusive singer.

Within moments the echo of footfall came from the bus, to reveal, well the person he wasn't expecting to see for one. Sif emerged from the bus, clutching her oversized hat with both hands, and was followed by Thor who looked bleary-eyed and unfocused. It was still considerably early for him to be up, although it didn't explain why they were the first ones off the bus instead of Loki.

"Wow, wow," Tony raised both hands. "Where the hell is Loki? He's always the first one off the bus."

"Cool it, daddy-o," Sif said, visibly shuddering from the breeze. "He's still on the bus, dead asleep. He won't be going anywhere; Philly will be lucky if he can wake him up for the sound check."

"Loki hasn't slept since San Francisco," Thor added sheepishly.

"And when he's out, he's out. You'd have an easier time waking a dead man than Lo."

"Oh, it's for the better anyway. Maybe he'll be peachier after a nap; although I suspect all he needs is his cock sucked." Fandral provided as he dismounted the bus with Volstagg and Phil on his heels. "The bloke hasn't had a woman in ages. Hell, he might still be as virginal as the virgin mother."

"Omit that from the article as well," Phil muttered wearily. "Now I expect you guys to be back by two-thirty. So do not be late."

The group made noncommittal noises, none of which were enthusiastic in the slightest. Before Phil could impose any further work onto them, the band and Sif started towards the rain-soaked pavement that was filled by a slew of pedestrians with umbrellas.

Phil offered Tony a smile, as he walked towards the impressive looking theater that the bus was parked behind. Once he disappeared into the building, Tony climbed back onto the bus, nodding absent-mindedly at Gary's exclamation that he was off to find a proper breakfast, and walked up the aisle until he stood in the darkened quarters at the back of the bus.

Loki had taken refuge on the bunk farthest away from the rest, although Tony didn't know if it was either the top or the bottom bunk. Both sets of curtains were drawn closed and there weren't any discernible sounds from either. Now that he was left to his own devices, Tony wasn't exactly sure he wanted to wake Loki despite how aggravated he'd been.

His timid nature, which hadn't revealed itself until in Loki's presence, reappeared. But he also knew if he didn't make a move then he'd never get what he wanted; and Tony Stark always, inevitably, got what he wanted in the end. How else did he end up on Odin's Sons' tour bus without having to suck a dick?

Taking a deep breath, Tony reached forward and dragged his fingers along the bottom bunk's cheap velvet curtains, but jerked away with a start once the top bunk's curtains were yanked open. He staggered backwards, pressed against the opposite bunks, and gaped as Loki blinked several times clearly disoriented.

His usually coiffed hair was wild and unkempt, which seemed far more suitable for a lead singer of a rock 'n roll band. Very slowly, almost feline-like, Loki climbed out of his bunk only clothed in a pair of unbelievably tight jeans that were unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing his pleasure trail and the V of his groin, and a leather cuff on his right wrist.

Tony held his breath, openly staring as Loki stretched and simultaneously yawned. Every muscle in his torso was on full display and made Tony both self-conscious of his lack of definition, and entranced by what he was seeing. Although he had to try his hardest to keep his mind platonic; which wasn't hard, of course not, because he was a straight, straighter than an arrow, teenage boy that was in no way attracted to another man.

Loki finally graced him with a look, one that lacked the intensity of the previous ones, before he huffed out something under his breath. They stared at one another for a very long time, and Tony was reaching the point where he wished the floor would open up and swallow him up.

"This bloody country has a poor excuse for tea," Loki suddenly exclaimed, looking like a petulant child. "All I want is a cup of tea."

This bit was information took some time for Tony to compute, based on the fact it was so arbitrary. Loki always spoke with conviction and didn't dawdle with small talk; so this was something new, another side of his idol that Tony hadn't realized lived underneath his cool and collected persona.

"You want tea?" Tony managed to ask, which was the most he'd ever said to the man.

"English tea," Loki scowled at nothing in particular. "Why is this country so privy to coffee anyway?"

"Have you heard of a little incident called the Boston Tea Party?" He cracked a grin, only to regret it soon thereafter by the look Loki shot at him.

The bleary-eyed innocence on Loki's face had been replaced by that sharp no-bullshit stare. But that too dissipated within seconds and the rock god was looking at some undetermined point on the floor, almost as if he still needed to gather his bearings after his prelude into sleep.

It then struck Tony why Loki was always racing off the bus, and never had anything to show for on top of that. He was looking for tea; of all things a good looking, talented rock god could be looking for. Most would have been on the search for liquor or more importantly drugs, which had leveled out Hendrix and Joplin the previous fall. But this was a first; it had to be.

"That's why you're always leaving the bus. You've been looking for tea all this time."

"_English_ tea," Loki corrected. "Your country's definition of tea is lacking considerably."

Of all things that he imagined speaking with Loki Odinson about, tea definitely hadn't been on the short list. Hell, he knew very little about tea aside from the fact that his mother used to have tea with her old friends on Sundays at the mansion.

He also remembered how both Howard and Obie would complain themselves blue in the face, when their English counterparts came into the country. Mostly because they felt compelled to buy crates of tea for the occasion, in order to make an impression, and were left with the remnants which they couldn't get rid of.

"I could get you tea, English tea," Tony blurted out, almost surprised by his sudden stroke of genius. "Straight from England,"

Loki graced him with that strange and intense stare, and by god he wanted to ask what the hell that was about. Except he was instantly drawn into it, almost flushing because of it; and if he felt weak in the knees, well that had nothing to do with it at all.

"I mean it might take a few days, but I can get you some."

"And why on earth would you do that? Certainly it isn't out of the kindness of your heart."

"It's a bargaining chip, actually. I get you what you want and in turn you give me what I want; and that's a whole hour of your time, uninterrupted." Tony smiled, despite feeling lightheaded and suddenly very, very hot.

"I don't like you," Loki deadpanned, scratching the skin underneath his navel in a way that shouldn't have been sensual but somehow was. "You're too smart; Amelia mentioned that you were. I suppose she wasn't exaggerating, unfortunately."

Despite it being a backhanded compliment, Tony couldn't stop the stupid grin that crossed his lips; and it only grew when Loki noticed it and scoffed openly. He realized it was borderline idiotic to be that happy over something as inconsequential as that; but he'd be damned if he didn't revel in being alone in Loki Odinson's presence either.

"You know you won't regret it. I can get the tea to you by Vegas; two days away and you'll be sipping Earl Grey with your pinky sticking out like the Queen."

"Oh yes, like the Queen herself," Loki advanced on him without any warning, and just as quickly boxing him against the bunk-beds. "But let me tell you something, _Tony Stark_, I don't trust you at all. You may have my time but if you believe I'll be as open and honest as those other fools, you are sorely mistaken. Because I know reporters and I know your kind especially."

"W-What do you mean?" Tony stuttered, so close and personal with the other man that he could see that there were flecks of gold in his brilliant green irises.

"Liars, Mr. Stark," he trailed a hand along the front of his tee-shirt, pausing only to tap on his sternum. "When you are a twenty-one year old reporter, then I am my ninety year old grandmother."

Fear ebbed into every one of Tony's senses, albeit something else roiled underneath the surface. Self-control had never been one of his finer points, after all he wouldn't have blown up a good portion of the high school's science lab if that had been the case. Because science or his baser needs really, always outshone self-control and common sense; but somehow he managed not to do anything that he'd regret in the future (or almost immediately).

His hands remained perfectly still against his sides, despite wanting to touch the taut line of muscles of Loki's abdomen and maybe, just maybe, follow the trail of hair underneath his navel and touch the skin hidden underneath his jeans and…

"Couldn't be any older than Amelia," Loki muttered, overlooking him slowly and almost intimately. "Brilliant with the stubble, however,"

Tony sucked in a breath as the older man brushed the back of his knuckles along his jaw with a week's worth of unkempt facial hair. He needed to at least try and maintain it, if he really decided he wanted to go the mustache-goatee route. It was a good look, aside from the fact he resembled Howard more and more every day.

"It must be exhilarating to fool so many people," Loki suddenly smiled. "But you cannot possibly tell an elaborate enough lie to fool a fellow liar. You just didn't prepare for that, now did you?"

"Actually, I figured as much," Tony exhaled. "But that doesn't mean I'm confirming or denying what you've said, because that would be an amateur's mistake. You know, liar to liar."

Loki drew away and looked, for a split-second, stunned by all means; except he was a master of saving face, and transfixed a nonchalant expression onto his features. It didn't, however, stop him from grasping Tony's face in his hand, tilting it side to side before releasing him abruptly.

"You'll have your interview once I have my tea. No sooner." Loki said, before climbing agilely back into his bunk-bed and stretching out to the point where his jeans shimmied further down his hips; Tony had to look away, lest he do that regrettable thing after all.

"You'll get it, I promise," he backed away, although his eyes remained on Loki's. "Just going to make a quick phone call,"

"By all means," Loki returned, before drawing the curtains on his bunk-bed again; and Tony didn't realize how relieved he was until the sight of him was gone.

Practically tripping over his own two feet, Tony hurried to the front of the tour bus, and scrambled out the door back into the rainy weather. He looked up and down the street, choosing to go right without any reason behind it, and rushed to find a payphone.

Obie would only be too happy to get rid of that tea; as early as Easter Sunday, he'd been complaining about it collecting dust in one of Stark Industries many conference rooms. And they hadn't been moved to storage because what a waste it would be, to contaminate (in the laboratories) so much tea that cost an arm and a leg importing from England.

And Tony too would only be too happy to help Obie out. After all, he would get one-on-one time with Loki that didn't involve talking about tea, and hopefully not about how both of them were liars. Also maybe Loki would make it a point to be fully dressed, in order to stave away any arousal, which Tony did not feel, that he might invoke while almost half-naked and sleep tousled.


	10. Chapter Nine :: Seattle II

**Fifteen Cities**

Chapter Nine

(Seattle II)

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm always blown away by how well-received this story has been. Mostly because I've been winging it (a lot); and this chapter kind of came together chaotically, you know with Loki doing what he wants. XD

The songs mentioned in this chapter are: "Wild Horses" by the Rolling Stones, "For Yasgur's Farm" by Mountain, and "Piece of My Heart" by Janis Joplin.

* * *

Decadence hadn't necessarily been the first word Tony would have used to describe the band. They seemed fairly tame from the past week he'd spent with them; but something had changed after the Seattle show. Maybe it was because it was a well-played set (Fandral's words not his); or maybe the days spent endlessly on the tour bus had finally drove them mad. Either way, the tour bus had become a four-ringed circus.

Roadies clamored in and out of the bus, pulling several scantily clad girls after them, while others were carrying boxes and bottles of every kind of alcohol imaginable. Groupies and hanger-ons were everywhere, inside and outside the bus; the lazy drizzle of rain couldn't even keep them away from the festivities.

Tony forced his way through the crowd, assaulted by the smell of weed, cigarette smoke, and cheap perfume. But it was even worse inside the cramped confines of the tour bus; people were squashed into one another, lounging anywhere they could find room to, and passing bottles, joints, and cigarettes amongst themselves.

It didn't take very long to find Fandral, whom was necking on a fiery redhead, while balancing a lit cigarette between his fingers. Volstagg was close-by, both arms occupied with a blonde and a brunette who were actively fighting for his attention in the most gratuitous ways imaginable.

Unsurprisingly Loki was nowhere in sight, testament to the fact that the hyper-sexual groupies were openly complaining about it. In fact, neither of the Odinson brothers was to be seen; which only concerned Tony, since when they were left without any intervention it only meant bloodshed.

Struggling through the steady wave of bodies, Tony started towards the exit. While he'd never been privy to claustrophobia before; he found it particularly hard to breathe with so many uncoordinated limbs pressed against him from every which way. Not to mention, the steady stream of smoke wafting in the air was starting to give him a headache.

It took far longer to get back to the front of the bus than it had to get into in the first place. Another drove of individuals were already fighting their way inside; many of the girls were asking anyone within the vicinity if they had seen either Odinson brother, but receiving unhelpful responses so far.

Tony managed to clamor out into the open air, just as one of the larger roadies carried in what could only be described as some kind of crate filled with beer. The occupants of the tour bus let out a collective sound of appreciation by the new offering, and he was only too glad to have gotten away when he could have; although the drizzling rain was no consolation either.

Well, it wouldn't have been until something froze him dead in his tracks. Someone was singing at the top of their lungs, louder than the mixture of rain and conversation; more precisely Loki Odinson was singing at the top of his lungs, and what sounded like the Rolling Stones' _Wild Horses_.

Tony whipped his head from side to side, signaled to where Loki was by a chorus of individuals crying out his name. And that's when he looked up to the theater's roof to see his idol pacing the length of the building, rain-soaked, while somehow maintaining perfect control over his voice, even though he was singing way louder than absolutely necessary.

On further inspection of the scene, Tony realized the people who'd been shouting Loki's name weren't awestruck fans, but Phil, Thor, and Sif. They were clamored near the building, although they were far enough to maintain an eye on him as he continued to sing and make abrupt and jerky gestures.

The better half of the crowd seemed oblivious to this revelation; mostly due to the fact that they were probably already half-drunk and stoned to care. And the few who noticed this development, could only gape at Loki who then propped his foot onto the ledge and threw his arms back as he hit a particularly high note.

Without even considering the possibility that he was an unwelcome presence, Tony shoved his way through the people in his path, and jogged across the lot to where the trio was standing. There was a hushed and angry conversation going on between Thor and Phil, which didn't let up as he approached. But it grew an octave louder as Loki leaned forward and came very close to losing his balance; and god only knew how he'd look if he fell from two stories.

"Loki, get down from there right now!" Sif screamed shrilly. "Get the hell down, you lunatic!"

But those words fell on deaf ears; Loki continued singing like he hadn't a care in the world, which was completely out of character for him. Even after their little chat, Tony knew this wasn't normal behavior for the elusive singer; regardless of his petulant behavior when it came to tea, _English tea_, he knew it was off-kilter even for him.

And god only knew Tony shouldn't have been elated, once Loki started singing _For Yasgur's Farm_; since that was the song that had been playing when he begged Hogun for this gig. But his better sense was momentarily compromised as Loki swayed to Leslie West's non-existent guitar solo, and almost doubled over backwards as the words thundered out of his mouth.

"What's going on?" Tony asked in a hushed tone, garnering only a fraction of Sif's attention.

"We couldn't find Lo," she paused, taking in a deep breath. "So we thought he went off on his own again. But then he climbed up there and something's wrong, daddy-o. Something is really, really wrong."

"Son of a bitch," Phil suddenly hollered, chasing after Thor who already ran towards the building. "You two stay here! He's trying to climb onto the ledge now!"

Just as Phil said before he disappeared inside, Loki was in the midst of climbing onto the ledge and shakily at that. Tony's heart stopped for a beat, no longer falling underneath the spell that Loki's voice usually entwined around him. He was scared shitless as Loki stood to his full height, which was well over six feet, and opened his arms in a messiah-like gesture.

Sif let out a startled cry, grasping onto Tony's rain-soaked jacket; but neither of them could take their eyes off the display in front of them. Even as Loki teetered and began to sing another song, particularly a Janis Joplin one, even louder than he'd down previously; their eyes remained glued onto him. And it seemed as if finally the rest of the crowd had gotten the memo, and were now gathering around them.

Confused and giddy voices surrounded them; someone even yelled in encouragement, may it be for Loki's singing or his impending fall was not necessarily clear. But whatever the reason, it still made Tony sick to his stomach; Loki was clearly not in his right mind, since he was unaffected by the crowd, the rain, or even his imbalance.

The power of his own vocal range was only contributing to his imbalance; and because Loki was the type of singer that was compelled to move and writhe, bordering on sexual, it was only steering the reality of a fatal fall further into the realm of possibility.

To add insult to injury, the crowd began to sing along; they hooted and howled as Loki started to rip at his own shirt, snapping the buttons, and exposing his torso which seemed to be his trademark now. Sif pinned Tony with a stare that was terrified; tears shone in her eyes, as if struck by the realization that things were about to turn south if Thor and Phil didn't get onto the roof in time.

"He's going to fall," Sif gasped and was quick to bury her face into Tony's shoulder.

Loki swayed so close to the edge, Tony tried to prepare himself for the inevitable. It was bound to happen; Loki's left foot seemed to raise a fraction of an inch, and that's when Thor pounced out of nowhere and grabbed onto Loki. Screams of surprise erupted from the crowd, coinciding with Sif digging her nails into Tony's arm, and disrupting Loki's singing indefinitely.

Thor wrestled Loki out of sight, and Tony released the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding in the first place. His heart pounded wildly for several long minutes, before it threatened to pick up speed as Thor hauled Loki to his feet and into Phil's awaiting arms. Super manager looped a possessive arm around Loki's waist, before they staggered several paces and disappeared from the crowd's watchful eye.

"It's okay, he's okay," Tony sighed. "Thor got him."

"Thank god," Sif trembled against him, still keeping her face pressed into his shoulder. "He almost gave me a heart attack. My heart's in my throat."

"Yeah, I know," he said but quickly regretted it by the inquisitive look Sif sent his way.

Before the situation could escalate into the realm of discomfort, suddenly the theater's backdoor was flung open by Thor's hulking figure; he held the door open for several long seconds, tense and irritated but mostly worried, until Phil steered Loki out into the awaiting rain.

The groupies and the hanger-ons looked as if they were about to broach the distance, but one look from Thor kept them at bay. Lightning practically rolled off of him, daring anyone to get close enough to get electrocuted, and living up to his namesake. But that didn't deter Sif from dragging him towards the group, shooting Thor a look that blatantly asked what was going on.

Thor only shook his head in response, following close behind Phil who held steadfast on Loki. Loki was shooting out hellos to people, being strangely personable for someone who refused to exchange pleasantries with his bus mates, and spent much of his time holed up in his bunk.

It took a considerable amount of time for Phil to drag Loki away from a random person in the crowd, to the point where Thor had to intervene and push them towards the tour bus. Although the party was still in flung swing as Tony followed them inside the bus; in fact, it was more congested than it had been beforehand.

Phil had to fight against the tide, although the leeches were already trying to cling to Loki like a second skin; regardless of the fact he was soaked to the bone, and was hardly making sense whenever he did grace the world with a few words.

"Out, everybody out," Phil yelled, practically snarled really, as he continued onward. "The party is over!"

Several disgruntled murmurs were the only reply, albeit the roadies were quick on their feet. They began to manually pull people towards the front of the bus; many fought but most dejectedly went along without putting up any unnecessary ruckus. But plenty of the overzealous groupies weren't about to leave without a struggle, and put up a valiant one at that.

"Fandral, kiss your friend goodbye. Now," Phil demanded, almost tumbling over at Loki's insistence on leaning towards his fellow band mate.

"Hello love," Loki said, in a way that could only be described as seductive and completely out of character.

Before Fandral could say anything at all, Loki plastered his mouth against his, doing so in a way that was almost indecent. And maybe Fandral had too many drinks, since he returned it after a few swipes of Loki's tongue. But the lip-lock was quickly disengaged by Phil roughly yanking Loki away, who only laughed manically in return.

"Bloody hell, that bastard can kiss," Fandral exclaimed, pushing away the redhead he'd been entertaining into one of the passing roadies' arms. "Maybe if you kept that stick out of your arse, you'd have a better time, Loki."

"I'll tell you what I prefer up my-"

"Brother that is enough!" Thor hollered, shoving Loki and Phil towards the back of the bus. "Put him to bed now!"

Phil managed to direct Loki towards the row of bunk-beds, leaving behind the round-up of unwelcome guests for the roadies and Thor alike. Tony pressed himself into the familiar nook between the communal area and bunks, taking a brief moment to sort through the twists and turns of the day.

His heart was still thrumming uncomfortably in his chest; he couldn't really pinpoint why. He wished he could say it was because Loki had almost fallen to his death, while singing _Piece of My Heart_; but he was becoming keenly aware of the fact, there was more to it than that. Despite being completely, unflappably heterosexual, Tony couldn't help but feel a heaviness in the pit of his stomach when he saw Loki kiss Fandral.

It was ridiculous, really. He should have been far more concerned about that whole potentially dying thing; and yet he could only focus on the past few minutes. He was so consumed by it, to the point that he disregarded the ruckus around him, which seemed to be growing more chaotic with each moment.

The last remaining groupies were unceremoniously tossed off the bus, and then Thor was shouting expletives and so was Sif. They were in the midst of a heated argument, but Tony barely spared them a look. Even when they accused the other of not watching Loki, which was beside the point; since Loki was capable of taking himself, well for the most part; whatever happened tonight didn't really count.

"And now the goddamn reporter has quite the story!" Thor suddenly exploded, drawing everyone's attention onto him; Tony's included. "Odin's Sons' leader singer drugged up and kissing men! Why don't we just put Loki in a dress and send him prancing onto the stage!"

"That's the least of your worries, Thor!" Sif snapped back. "Your biggest problem is finding out what happened with Loki, and if some dumb slut gave him something! Because I guarantee you, he would not have done it on his own; someone slipped him something! He almost died because of it! And for the record, you can bet Tony won't write a fucking word about it; he's not some asshole like you make him out to be!"

"Both of you be quiet," Phil reappeared, looking haggard and unkempt; his usual tidy suit was askew and wet from tussling with Loki. "Fighting over this isn't going to help anyone, especially Loki. So I suggest you two stop while you're ahead. Tomorrow we'll get all the answers we need from the source. And I expect you to omit this whole unfortunate affair from your article, Mr. Stark."

Tony felt momentarily affronted; of course he was the enemy in a variety of ways, but that didn't mean he was about to air out his favorite band's dirty laundry. Hell, he liked to do it a lot when it came to some of the local bands he featured; although Hogun was quick to strike his mention of a leader singer's cocaine use, because as he put it – defamation claims. But he'd never do it to Odin's Sons, more specifically Loki.

"Hear no evil, see no evil," he repeated his previous response from the last time Phil demanded he omit something; although his response was by far fiercer than it had been beforehand.

No one seemed to have noticed, though. Tony wouldn't have cared if they did or not; there were too many conflicting emotions going off in his head. The most prevalent certainly had to do with the fact, in so little terms, that he might very well have feelings for another guy. But not just any guy either, but Loki fucking Odinson. The same guy James had jokingly told him to marry; the same one he practically worshiped and got tongue-tied over.

He carded his fingers through his damp hair, trying to banish those thoughts, and keep himself involved in the fray around him. Because if he let himself follow his stupid heart, he knew damn well that he would be climbing into Loki's bunk right about now and possessively wrapping his arms around him just like Phil had.


End file.
